I had to ask
by CrazywithaComputer
Summary: A word from the wise: when you find a mysterious Mustang for sale (more like for free) in a parking lot, don't take it home. Ever. It will turn your life upside down, and if you're lucky you'll survive with your sanity in tact. Too bad it's too late for me. Set in the '07 Bayverse, mixed with the mythology of Gen 1 and my own twisted mind. Enjoy! XD
1. Chapter 1

**CWC: Hey! I'm back, and better than ever! For those just joining us, here's the disclaimer:**

**Frenzy is red, Rumble is blue, I don't own Transformers, so you no sue!**

**And now that we've got that out of the way, here's the story! See you at the bottom! XP**

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**Chapter 1: Too Good to be True**

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I sighed and pushed a strand of my long wood-brown hair out of my face. As I mused inside my head about getting it cut short, I allowed my hazel eyes to drift lazily around the store. A young couple was still wandering through the cooking section, while a few teenage boys were hanging around the magazine aisle. Glancing at the clock, I pulled on a headset from where it had been resting beside my cash register and hit a button.

"Ollie's will be closing in ten minutes. We hope to see you back tomorrow. Ollie's, good stuff cheap," I say in a forced cheery tone. The magazine boys slouch out as the couple comes and buys a set of frying pans before leaving. Glad for my shift to be over, I pull off the ridiculous smock that is the employee uniform and lock the register.

Grabbing my purse from under the cash machine, I pull my hair into a pony tail and walk out, waving a quick good bye to the manager, who shouts a lazy, "See ya, Teresa."

Once outside, I take a deep breath of the chilly air and look around. The mainly flat land of the fall country side is dotted with a few buildings, including a school, fire station, gas station, and town hall. My eyes drift over to the corner of the lot. It's normal for people to leave cars there that they want to get rid of or sell. Suddenly I gasp and blink, not trusting my eyes.

Sitting in the corner is a badly beaten Saleen Mustang with the distinctive black-and-white paintjob of a police cruiser. Or it used to be a police cruiser; the paint is badly scratched, all four doors are dented in numerous places, the red-and-blue lights on the dashboard have been bashed in, the tail lights are smashed, and the hood is crumpled. Vandals have even attacked the car with paint, spraying rude slogans all over the abused machine. The only unharmed part of the car that I can see from my position is the tires, which, while paint-splattered, are in one piece and inflated.

After checking for observers, I jog over to the car, ignoring where my bicycle is chained off to one side of the store. I approach the cruiser, and run an appreciative hand over the side. The interior has remained intact, and is dusty from disuse, despite the scratches around the keyhole testifying that someone had attempted to get in. A cardboard sign, held in place by a windshield wiper, catches my eye.

"You can haul it, you can have it," it proclaims in plain black sharpie.

A smile starts to form on my face, but I squash it. This does not mean that I will take the car; it could cost more to fix than it's worth. But even as I run a critical eye over the car, I know that's not the case. In almost any condition this car would be worth fixing, and if the engine is still intact and usable, even for scrap, this is an awesome machine.

I walk over to the driver's side door and, pulling a paper clip and bobby pin from my pocket, crouch down to work on the lock. Whoever tried to get into this car before me must not have been very skilled; the lock pops open after a few minutes, evidence to the fact that I leave my keys in the house way too much. Grinning, I open the door and slide into the seat, tossing my purse to the floor of the passenger side and slamming the door behind me. Giddy, I grin some more before reality crashes in, effectively smothering my glee.

Yes, I can get in the car, but how am I supposed to drive it away without keys?

Defeated, I groan and thump my head against the steering wheel, which causes the sun visor to flop open. Something falls and smacks the back of my head with a soft clink. Reaching up without moving my head, I grasp the thing and, moving the object in front of my eyes, focus on the key in my right hand, along with the piece of paper that fluttered to the floor when the key fell. The paper is a proof of ownership for the Mustang. Holding my breath, I sit up straight, put my foot on the brake, put the key in the ignition, and, saying a quick prayer, turn it.

The engine stutters for a minute and then starts with a thunderous growl. I can feel the vibration of the powerful engine through the soles of my shoes, and my grin starts up again. Silently promising myself that I'll come back for my bike later, I drive the car out of the lot and down the road towards my house. Even in such a condition, the Mustang handles with ease, and ride seems short.

As I pull into the driveway, I look at the small, A-frame house standing tall, surrounded by fields, now brown with the growing chill, and fenced in by tall pine, fir, and oak trees. Driving the Mustang up to the house, I pull a small remote from my purse and press a button to open the door to the garage that takes up most of the bottom floor. I drive the car onto the concrete floor and pull up to the middle of the garage before closing the door behind me.

The third floor is one large room with a long metal counter stretching the length of the room. A staircase leads to the second floor. Hopping out, I immediately move towards the counter and, grabbing a rolling desk from beside the wall, begin loading it with tools that I will need to fix the Mustang. I also set up four towers, each two feet tall, of cinderblocks in front of the car, connected by long, thick wooden boards. Two more boards go to make a slight ramp from the front wheels of the car to the top of the blocks.

"You know," I say, thinking out loud. "I need to give you a name. You're a Mustang, for Pete's sake, I can't just keep calling you 'the car!'" I think about a name for my newest acquisition, hopping in the car again and driving it up onto the pedestals before getting out carefully, chocking the tires to keep the car from rolling, and removing the ramps. As I move to pick up the ramps, I catch sight of the battered car's license plate. It reads: 8AR-1CAD.

"eight-aye-are-one-cee-aye-dee," I read. "Or, if you read it like letters, Bar-icad, or Barricade." "Hm," I think as I put away the ramps and grab my purse from the seat of the car. "Barricade. A strong defensive barrier, meant to keep opposition out, weakening or entirely destroying them," I muse, getting everything arranged just so and observing my work.

"I like it," I say suddenly. "New Ford Mustang that used to be a police car, I dub thee, Sir Barricade, protector of the A-frame." I laugh slightly before putting a finger on my chin thoughtfully.

"I'll just call you Cade for short," I decide before picking up my purse and moving to the second floor. This repair job is going to take a long time; good thing I have tomorrow off of work and it's the weekend so school won't interfere.

The second floor is split neatly into two areas, one carpeted and containing a TV, a couple of arm chairs, and a couch, and the tiled area serving as a kitchen. The third floor extends slightly down into the second, cutting off like a balcony and allowing me to see up to where my bedroom and the bathroom is housed. A smaller, second bathroom takes up a little space in the basement.

Moving to the kitchen, I fix myself a quick sandwich as I move up the stairs to the third floor. I change quickly into a pair of old, worn jeans, stained black in spots by car grease and grime, and a ragged black T-shirt before pulling my hair up into a high ponytail, the better to keep it out of my face. Dumping my purse on my bed, I gather a few snack foods before heading back down to the basement.

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_Barricade's POV_

I come online with a small groan. The last thing in my memory banks is automatically going into stasis lock as the squishy males came at me with more metal sticks, wooden sticks, and strange cans, saying something about, "Gettin back at the fuzz," whatever the slag that meant. If I hadn't still been damaged from my battle with that fragging scout I would have shown them what true fear was. I take in my new surroundings silently.

I appear to have been moved into a human mechanics room, and placed on pedestals. That was going to be a problem; the blocks were too high to simply roll off of without acquiring further damage, and I could not transform in the small space without tearing the place apart. Grumbling quietly, I'm distracted from my problem by an adolescent human female coming down a set of stairs holding various human fuels, which she puts on the metal shelf on the other side of the room.

She is tall, for an adolescent, and looks stronger than other femmes of her kinds I have seen; she is not puny, built more for strength than grace, with big pedes and wide shoulders. I watch, confused, as she turns on a large electronic device. Sound patterns vibrate through the room as the girl grabs a smaller shelf stacked high with equipment and brings it over to where I am poised, helpless, above the ground.

"Alright," she says suddenly, an eager grin coming over her squishy face. "Let's get this party started." She takes a bucket of soapy liquid from off of the cart and I can't help but shudder slightly. This is not going to be fun.

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_My POV_

I pull out some soapy water and smile. "You know," I say conversationally to the car. "I feel really bad for you. It must have taken a lot to get is this condition."

I start removing the dirt and grime from the frame to prepare for the new paint job, the deep base tones of the music providing a nice rhythm.

"Geesh," I say, exasperated, as I look at the green stripes criss-crossing the car. "Why would someone do this to a car? It makes no sense!" Growling under my breath, I finish washing the car and taking off the wax.

"The name's Teresa, by the way," I say as I turn towards my cart again, reaching for a dent puller. "So, you've probably got a lot of questions. I'll try to answer them as we get you fixed up, okay?"

Nodding to myself, I get to work, pulling out all the dents, filling in the small ones, and stripping the paint down to the primer. I'm pleasantly surprised; either I was wrong about how bad some of the dents were, or this metal makes it super easy to pull them out. I keep up a constant chatter throughout, just babbling about anything that comes to mind. I tell my new car about my job, my pets, my school, what I want to do when I grow up, and everything. The music plays in the background, and I, almost unconsciously, move to the beat, speeding up and slowing down as it does. Soon it's time to repaint Cade, and I look at the rows and rows of paint I have in the shop.

"So Barricade, what color would you like," I ask, eyes roving the cans. I hear a creak from behind me and turn back Cade. He hasn't moved. I shrug; he must have just been settling more firmly onto the chocks. After a few minutes quiet deliberation, I decide that Cade would look best in silver, with a few personal touches.

I quickly select my colors and begin draping anything that isn't my car with plastic sheets. That done I pull on a plain white jumpsuit to keep the paint off my clothes and hair. A smirk grows on my face as I turn back toward my new car, face covered with a painter's mask and armed to the teeth with paint sprayers and detailing tools. "This is going to be fun," I say excitedly before attacking him with the paint.

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_Barricade's POV_

I snarled mentally. Did humans **ever** shut up? I had been forced to listen to the femme for hours now. As least she worked as much as she talked; I was almost completely fixed. The only things remaining were my paint job and my lights. I gave a mental sigh as the human continued covering me with the cold paint. I had almost fallen off of the pedestals when she had mentioned my name before remembering my license plate.

I allowed myself to relax onto the blocks as the young femme worked on my alt mode. My sensors barely picked it up when she stopped painting me and began working on my lights. I was almost in recharge when the human clapped her hands loudly and declared, "At last, it is done!"

Using my external sensors, I looked at myself and nearly gaped in shock. What had this crazy femme done to me?!

I was mainly silver, and I still had my lights, but instead of my familiar white cruiser paint job I had red and blue flame designs racing up the bottom of my doors to grow rapidly as they got past my rear doors. I had to bite back a groan as the human only grinned madly and took several pictures with her cell phone. She walks around me once more before she vents in a loud gust the humans call and 'yawn.'

"Well, Cade," she says, exhaustion lacing her voice. "It was fun working on you; see you tomorrow, or whenever I wake up."

The human manages to turn off the stereo and stumble up the stairs, and my sensors indicate she makes it to the top floor before collapsing into recharge. I roll my eyes. Humans. How have they survived this long? Running a quick sweep search for Cybertronian energy signatures before dropping into my own recharge doesn't take long, but it gives my processor time enough to consider the facts.

I was grudgingly grateful that the small human had repaired my external systems as well as her primitive mind could handle, and, though the paint job was hideous, it would be a good disguise in hiding from the Transformers, Autobot and Decepticon alike. The longer I could stay hidden, the better.

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_Teresa's POV_

I moan as I peel my face off of the blankets long enough to glare at my alarm clock. It had taken all of Friday afternoon and Saturday to fix Barricade, and I had been exhausted. Now it was eight in the morning on Sunday and something told me that I wouldn't be getting any more sleep.

Tearing myself slowly out of bed, I stumble to the shower and emerged ten minutes later feeling much better. After eating a quick breakfast, I sneak downstairs and flip on the basement light. Now fully awake and as sane as I ever am, I examine my handiwork with a proud eye.

"Time to show off," I announce, dashing upstairs to get into some better clothes. I come back to the basement dressed in my black jeans and a red t-shirt, mostly covered by my leather jacket.

Replacing the ramps at the base of the blocks, I carefully clamber into Cade and drive him back onto the cold concrete floor. I turn on the radio almost automatically and smirk as I hear the opening chords of Bad to the Bone. Opening the garage door, I drive outside and ride around the countryside, listening to the rumble of the engine and startling cows. As it gets close to lunchtime, I head into town, drawing stares as I stop at a light. I smirk behind the deeply tinted windows as pedestrians do stunning impressions of dying fish before revving the engine and continuing to the only fast food restaurant in the aptly named town of Miniville, the infamous Rose Marie's.

I ordered the standard Rosie meal and a chocolate shake before settling down at a picnic table in front of a parked Cade. Munching my burger, I bask in the fall sun and, full and warm, fall into a light doze.

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HONK! "BWAH!"

I jump awake and nearly fall off the bench at the sound of a car honking right beside. Glaring in Barricade's direction, I scowl as I catch sight of two teenage boys near my car. The taller one has spiked bleach-blonde hair, while the shorter one is brown haired. Both boys wear sunglasses, black muscle shirts, black jeans, combat boots, and black jean jackets with the sleeves ripped off to show mildly interesting muscles.

Brown hair is standing, frozen, in front of Cade, staring at me, while the other is crouched near his door, doing something to the lock. My mouth twists into a furious scowl. These lame excuses for punks were trying to steal Barricade!

I stand up slowly and face the two idiots. Blondie stops trying to pick the lock and stands as well. I startle us all by forcing out a cheery laugh.

"You know," I say to them happily. "I'm actually glad that you morons tried to steal my car. I've been looking for a couple of practice dummies, and you two fit the bill quite nicely."

I give them the sweetest smile I can manage before dropping into a fighting stance. "Come on, boys," I taunt when they hesitate. "Don't tell me a little girl you're scared of?"

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**CWC: Hi, it's me again. FYI, I'll probably be updating about every two weeks, if I can swing it. Sorry for the cliffy! Remember, Reviews are love and feed hungry authors. SO GIVE ME THE NOMS!**

**(is whacked over the head by faithful human-sized shape-shifting Prowl-muse)**

**Prowl-muse: That's enough of that. Get back to typing. **

**CWC: Yeah, yeah. This is my voice of reason and shape-shifting muse, who currently looks like everybody's favorite Datsun. **

**Prowl: Greetings.**

**CWC: Yeah... he'll be popping up every so often, unless I do this! **

**(Leaps up and shouts in Prowl's face)**

**MY LITTLE PONY FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC IS COMING AND IS PLANNING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD WITH THEIR MESSAGE OF PEACE AND LOVE! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!**

**Prowl: (glitches and faints) **

**CWC: (grinning) epic-ness (Pulls out permanent marker) Until next time, anklebiters! Bai!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CWC: Hellos! I'm back early due to the overwhelming response to my first chappie. **

**Prowl: Yes, all four reviews. **

**CWC: shut it, Prowler, these guys are awesome. Anywho, I'm updating early! Hooray! Because exams are coming up soon so I won't get a chance to type much. So you guys get a chapter for free. As always I own Prowl-muse and Teresa, not transformers. Otherwise Jazz would never have died and Michael Bay would have vanished mysteriously long before now... :) **

Chapter 2: Glitches and Witches

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_Barricade's POV_

The femme is crazy. The femme is crazy and she is going to die at the hands of the fools trying to 'steal' me. I watch apathetically as she speaks with the males. I only start to pay attention when she drops into a fighting stance and smiles insanely.

The shorter male rushes at her and, what had she said her designation was, Teresa, simply steps away from the blow, allowing him to stumble past her before slamming an elbow into his back. He falls to the ground and lays still as the older one drops into his own stance. The tall male attempts a punch, with Teresa dodges, and manages to block her kick in retaliation. The fight continues with him trying a punch to the stomach. Teresa blocks the punch but is unprepared for the follow up kick aimed at her gut. I scoff as she is pushed back several inches, but remains standing.

This human is strong, I give her that, but she is obviously inexperienced. She recovers quickly and attacks, landing a blow to the boy's own stomach before spinning to kick him in the shoulder, give him a right hook, and finishes up with an upper cut. The older male falls to the ground, his sunglasses flying off to break on the concrete parking lot a few feet away. Teresa stands over him, smirking.

"That was for messing with me," she says, and kicks the boy in between the legs. "And that," she hisses as the boy goes pale and moans in pain. "Is for messing with my car."

I rev my engine slightly, impressed, before I remember that I am supposed to be in disguise. Teresa just gives me a strange look before shrugging, giving the pair one last scornful look, and getting in.

"I can't believe it," she grumbles as she pulls out my key and pulls out of the parking lot, again turning on my radio and filling my interior with the sound of human instruments. It is uncomfortable not being in control, but she seems to know what she's doing.

"My first day out in my new car and some morons try to steal you!" I roll my eyes. This human is very strange: she fixes me, talks to me even though she thinks I am a normal human vehicle, and has the brute strength to win against two human males nearly twice her size. Ignoring the discomfort of being driven, I relax into the drive and listen to the girl babble. As soon as my internal systems heal, I will leave, but until then I am stuck with this odd femme.

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_Teresa's POV_

Still grumbling over those morons trying to car-nap Cade, I shoot through the narrow country roads at high speeds, Barricade's engine roaring loudly. Still angry, I smile as the song Monster by Skillet blasts through Cade's speakers. The deep bass thuds through the car and relaxes me as I calm down. I smirk suddenly.

"Oh well," I sigh slightly, letting go of the last of my anger. "Who could blame them for being tempted by such a hot car? Especially with the paint job I gave you." I smirk again and keep driving, now enjoying the clear blue sky and the powerful sound of the Cade's engine. I sigh in contentment before regretfully turning the wheel to go home.

Today was fun, but I have school tomorrow and work afterwards. Sleep is essential. When I got back, I parked Barricade downstairs, grabbed a quick sandwich, and settled on the couch to watch a little TV before heading to bed. 10:30 found me stumbling drowsily up to my bed with the evening news still playing on screen.

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_Barricade's POV_

Once my external sensors picked up the sound of the human snoring, I activated my holoform and opened the hood of my alt mode. While the exterior damage was completely repaired, I still had some repairs to be made to the more internal sensors.

The holoform, which looked like a human, began to work, repairing my communication centers, and fixing several other vital parts. I hesitated. If I was going to survive any amount of time at all, I would need to find a way of hiding my spark signature. My holoform walked over to the large counter, examining the tools and materials.

If I was careful with acquiring materials and which tools I used, I could build a transmitter to hide my energy signature without this femme's knowledge. Grasping a wrench and picking up a small circuit board, I got to work.

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_Teresa's POV_

_*beep**beep**beep**bee-*_ my alarm clock was cut off mid-beep as I reached over and smacked it off my bedside table. Glancing at the time, I groan and move sluggishly to turn on the stereo before going to take a shower. After the warm water has woken me up a bit, I dress in a pair of khaki pants, a blue t-shirt with the words, 'Don't take life to seriously, no one makes it out alive,' on it, and my usual sneakers.

I slurp down a quick bowl of cereal before grabbing my book bag from the couch and heading downstairs, turning off the music as I go. A sharp slam of metal rang out as I cleared the staircase, causing me to look strangely to where Barricade was parked. It had sounded almost like his hood had slammed closed, but I hadn't opened his hood. I shrug. It wasn't like my life hadn't been strange enough already.

Tossing my bag into the passenger seat, I rev the engine and, smiling at the powerful sound, drive toward the torture chamber known as school, the radio blaring once more. Cade pulls into the crowded parking lot without trouble, avoiding getting scratched on the other cars as I head to my usual parking spot. I snarl, glaring at area.

A bright blue 2010 Nissan Micra is in my parking spot, though my growl is directed at the smirking blonde girl leaning on the hood. Her smirk changes to a look of shock as she takes in my new ride. Smiling sweetly at her, I pull into the spot directly behind her, revving Cade's engine one more time for good measure before grabbing my book bag and hopping out of the car.

I force the overly sugary smile to stay on my face as the angry blonde head of Kristen Barrows comes stomping towards me.

"What," she hisses. "Is that?"

"Oh, this," I say dumbly, motioning over my shoulder. "This is just my new car. I call him Barricade." Kristen snorts, calming down slightly.

"Barricade? You named your car?" I shrug.

"Why not? And technically, named he already was; on his license plate it was." I wince; there's my speech problem. I was wondering when that would show up. Kristen runs a critical eye over my car and scoffs.

"Well it's ugly as crap; those colors totally clash, and those lights are almost as much of an eyesore as you are," she says, smirking. We're both shocked when Cade's engine revs, almost angrily, before falling silent. Kristen looks slightly shaken but recovers quickly.

"It figures," she sneers. "You would drive a car that's ugly _and _glitchy, just like you." The engine revs again and Cade surges forward, knocking Kristen just enough to make her fall on her butt. She stands up quickly and, giving me one last look of disdain, flees to the relative safety of school.

I watch her go before looking at Barricade, swallowing my smile at seeing Kristen flat on her rear in the parking lot. I examine it closely, searching for any noticeable difference that would explain its odd behavior. My car looks the same today as it did last night and the day before. I smile slightly.

"Good job," I compliment him, speaking slowly to make sure I don't stutter any more. "That chick had it coming, calling you ugly and a glitch." I smile once more before grabbing my book bag from where I had tossed it to the sidewalk and heading toward the main school building, the sound of tires squealing away barely registering as I start worrying about schoolwork.

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_No one's POV_

Arcee raced out of the school parking lot, racing through the small town. The motorcycle femme made sure she was out of scanner range before contacting Optimus.

:: Prime! :: Arcee

:: Yes, Arcee, what is it? :: Prime

:: I've found Barricade! :: Arcee

:: Are you sure? I thought he went missing before the battle of Mission City. :: Prime

:: Well wherever he went, I've found the slagger again, hiding at a human high school. :: Arcee

:: Has he harmed any of the humans or revealed his presence? :: Prime

:: Not that I know of, though I did see a human femme talking to him. :: Arcee

:: You are not to engage unless he attacks a human; we do not want to reveal ourselves this way. I am sending Bumblebee and Ironhide as back up. Once they arrive you will capture him quietly and bring back to Diego Garcia for judgment. Optimus out. :: Prime

Arcee growled deep in her frame. That pit-spawned excuse for a fragger was running around a human school and there was nothing she could do about it. She wouldn't have even found him if she hadn't been assigned to patrol this part of the state after Prowl had landed nearby, and even then he would have gone unnoticed had she not happened to chose to observe the human school that day.

She had almost not recognized him with that strange paint job. Only the police lights on the dashboard and back of the car and the smallest trace of a Cybertronian energy signature on her scanners had convinced her that it was her old foe.

Arcee completed one circuit around the perimeter of the town and began another before resuming her usual patrol route through the town. Two questions just would not leave her processor.

What had Barricade, the brutal Decepticon, been doing at a human high school, and who was that human who had been talking to him?

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_Barricade's POV_

I was jolted out of my light recharge by an obnoxious ringing from the direction of the building that Teresa had called school. Human younglings immediately begin to pour out, some running for their cars, others walking more slowly and talking to other humans.

I spot Teresa coming toward me at a normal pace. She is only a few yards away when a group of females, led by the yellow-haired human femme from earlier, surrounds her.

"Well well, if it isn't the glitch," the leader sneers. I'm reminded unpleasantly of Starscream when he has something captured in his claws. Teresa sighs.

"You want what do you, Kristen," she says, her voice sputtering strangely.

"Oh, just wanted to hear your melodious voice, Glitch-girl," the femme says, sneering again. "We thought that you might like some help with the homework tonight," the blonde continues, twisting a clump of her hair around one finger. Teresa looks at her suspiciously.

"What homework are you talking about," she asks, speaking slowly and carefully.

"The homework for math, of course," Kristen says simply, smiling. "You'd need all the help you can get, since your brain glitches even more than your voice." Teresa's fists start shaking with barely suppressed rage.

"Kristen, back off you better I'll or," she begins.

"You'll what," the irritating femme challenges her. "What are you gonna do, hit me?" Teresa calms down slightly, and I can hear her grit her teeth from here.

"No, what happened the last time we both know," Kristen continues, imitating Teresa's sputtering speech. Teresa snarls and pushes her way through the group of giggling femmes towards me.

"Oh, and Glitch," Kristen calls out as Teresa opens my door and throws her large bag into my passenger seat. "Don't forget to do the English homework; the way you talk, it'll take you forever to get it done."

Snarling, Teresa slams my door hard enough to hurt. She revs my engine angrily and peels out of the lot fast enough to leave tire marks on the pavement. I stay silent and observe as Teresa begins to leak from her optics, and take control just enough to keep us from crashing. For the first time since I have come out of stasis, she does not turn on the radio.

Eventually she manages to drive me to a small store, parking me directly across from the doors before grabbing her bag and getting out, slamming my door again. I watch as she goes inside the store and is soon sitting behind a counter, writing on a piece of paper. I zoom in enough to read the heading. 'Algebra II: Radicals and Radical Equations.'

I sigh mentally and settle down on my axles, doing my best to ignore the humans all around me, resigned to another period of quiet as I wait for the femme to finish whatever she is doing.

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_Teresa's POV_

I yawned and finished up the last problem on the worksheet before sticking my work back into my book bag and glancing at the clock. Finally, quitting time.

"See ya tomorrow, boss," I call out to the manager before hopping in Barricade. My mind wanders to my homework, especially the English work, and from there to Kristen and her clique's words.

I'm startled out of my angry thoughts when my car jerks slightly before settling back in the middle of the lane. That's when I notice that I've been gritting my teeth, and my hands are holding the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles have turned white. Deliberately, I loosen my grip and turn on the radio, determined not to let that glitch of a girl ruin my good mood.

I smile when the stereo begins playing 'Mean Girls' by Sugarland. The strange coincidences continue as it's followed by 'Mean' by Taylor Swift, and I'm rocking out to the last tones of 'It's Not Me, It's you' by Skillet when I pull into my garage. The music therapy taking effect, I sigh happily before glancing at the clock and groaning.

Six o'clock has rolled around once again, and I know what that means. Regretfully I race upstairs, quickly changing into my workout clothes, which are grey sweatpants and a black tank top, grab my bag of equipment from a closet, and walk outside to my backyard, where I've set up a gym of sorts.

A short track, no more than a path of worn grass, follows the borders of the yard. The center is dedicated to weights retrieved from the bag, and an outside tree has a red target painted on it at about shoulder height. I start out by walking two laps, jogging three, and flat-out running five before working on my arms, lifting thirty pound weights for three sets of twenty.

I take a quick break in the form of practicing my hand stands and stretches and finish up with combat practice, which is code for pulling on a pair of thick gloves and punching and kicking the target tree.

This takes almost an hour and a half, and by the time I've finished my routine, packed up the weights, and taken a quick shower I am dead exhausted, despite it only being eight thirty at night. I do this every weekday after school to stay strong; otherwise I'd be a lump. I stumble around for another forty five minutes, puttering around in my workshop, cleaning up, and washing a load or two of clothes, before I realize that I'm being an idiot and go to bed.

I'm under the covers and staring at the ceiling when the truth that I've been ignoring all day comes crashing in on me, leaving me pale and scared. My car, my inanimate object, had turned itself on, not just today, but when it was being stolen, too, and even moved on its own. I take a deep breath.

'Okay, Teresa, get a grip,' I thought to myself. 'A car cannot turn itself on or move. It is impossible. Therefore, you must be imagining things.'

_But you're not imagining things,_ a smaller voice said. _There's no way we imagined Kristen falling on her butt in the parking lot._

'Okay, then maybe the car just has an electrical problem. Some wires, probably damaged in whatever had happened to Cade before, simply fell against one another the right way. The first time the boy could have caused it when he tried to pick the lock, and the second time with Kristen was just chance,' I told that voice firmly. 'Cars cannot just start themselves, let alone move. It is simply impossible.'

I shoved aside the whispering of the smaller voice in my head and rolled over, pressing my head deeper into my pillow. I fall asleep quickly.

XXXXXXXXXX

I wake up the next morning, smack my alarm clock, and head downstairs, determined to have a normal day. I dress in my favorite pair of khaki capris and a shirt with the slogan 'run like you stole something' emblazoned on the front. I slurp down some cereal before going to the basement and hopping in the waiting Mustang, pulling smoothly out of my garage and heading straight for school.

I turn on the radio and nearly drown out the engine by playing Toby Mac's Showstopper loud enough for the bass line to shake the windows. Pleased by the stronger crisp in the air and in a good mood from the music, I park at school in the same spot as yesterday and head inside. The day passes quickly, English blending smoothly with Math, Science, and Civics. The only intrusions on my good mood are the faked gasps of surprise when I turn in my completed English homework and the snide betting on how low my grade will be in Math class by Kristen and her crowd but I manage to ignore them enough to maintain my smile.

As the bell rings for the end of the day, I burst out of the doors at top speed, ready to get to work and then head home to relax. I've almost reached Cade when I stop and gasp, feeling like I've been punched in the gut.

Long, thin scratches run the length of my car, and pink permanent marker is doodled all over the lights, both on top of the car and the signal lights. Smaller scratches criss-cross almost every inch f the once pristine silver. The worst part is the word 'glitch' in huge letters scratched into the hood, the gray of the metal underneath standing out painfully from what remains of the sleek silver paint job.

Fury bubbles inside me as I realize at the same time who did this and the fact that there's not a thing I can do to get back at her. Taking a deep breath, I pull out my IPod, snapping a quick picture, and get in the car and drive slowly to work, not bothering to turn on the radio. I'm numb my entire shift, performing my duties mechanically, hardly able to take my eyes off of Cade and the ruined paint job.

As soon as I'm done I run out to Cade and drive home, once again ignoring the radio. Once back in the garage, I put Barricade back up on the ramps and begin covering everything in plastic again. A soft cloth dipped in warm water and soap cleans the sharpie off of the lights quick enough, but Kristen made sure that the scratches covered almost every inch of my car, making it impossible to salvage the old paint. I sigh. I'll have to completely repaint him, and I won't have time to do a fancy job like before, either.

I look Cade over again and growl, picking up a tool and flinging it against one wall of my garage with a crash. Fury fills me and I growl again, donning my painters garb and getting to work while my mind spins, reliving Kristen's last words to me that day in class.

"Just remember," she had said, her lips curled in that signature sneer of hers. "No matter what kind of car you have, I don't care if you have a Lamborghini, or even two, I will still be better than you." I concentrate on my painting, shutting out all sensations except the feel of the sprayer in my hand and the growing anger in my mind.

Almost too soon I'm finished, and I take a step back to admire my handy work. What was once flashy silver, red, and blue has been replaced by slick black, the only other color a bold red line that runs along the sides of the car. I sigh, tired now that the work is over, and look at my clock, groaning when I see the time. It is one thirty in the morning.

Grumbling, I set up a system to help dry the paint quicker and go to bed, not looking forward to being woken up in a few hours for school. I didn't even get to work out today, which I was going to pay for tomorrow afternoon. I march silently up to bed, resigned that tomorrow was going to be pure torture.

XXXXXXXXXX

**CWC: Uh oh, I made Terry mad. What she gonna do? **

**Tune in next week for another exciting chapter of: I! Had! To! ASKKKKKKK!**

**(if you just thought/read that in a voice like a game show host, you must now review. For the reviews are delicious noms for the plot bunnies, and if you don't feed plot bunnies they try to eat your toes. Don't let the plot bunnies eat my toes: review!)**

**Edit: OMG, I'm so embarrassed. One kind reviewer by the name of colitis pointed out that I screwed up on the POV headings. O_O" SORRY! See you next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**CWC: Hello! I'm back peoples! Many thanks to the wonderful colitas, ForgotMyName2Day, IronEclipse, BeastRage the Hunter, Anara the Hunter, and FanfictionLover1 for the awesome reviews! You keep my toes intact. **

**So here's the next chappie, but fair warning: the next update may be slow due to me having finals in ten days.**

**Prowl-Muse: Which you should be studying for right now...**

**CWC: Shut it, Prowler, I got bored. **

**Prowl-Muse: Fine, as long as you continue studying directly after this.**

**CWC: (rolls eyes) sure Prowler, whatever you say. (mutters) I'm so glad I made you human-sized**

**Prowl-Muse: What was that?**

**CWC: Nothing!**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Chapter 3: Revenge is a dish best served frizzy**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

_No one's POV_

Arcee was parked for the night just outside the city limits, just about to slip into recharge, when she received a comm. from Prime.

:: Prime to Arcee. :: Prime

:: I'm here, sir. :: Arcee

:: There have been some issues with transportation. Bumblebee is unavailable. Jazz and Ironhide will be there as soon as possible. Has Barricade made a move? :: Prime

:: No, but something… strange happened. :: Arcee

:: Strange? :: Prime

:: I was able to observe him from a distance. He allowed a human girl to drive him to school, and while he was in the parking lot a group of younglings approached him. They scratched his paint job, marked on his lights, and wrote 'glitch' on the hood of his alt mode. :: Arcee

:: Are any of the children still alive? :: Prime

:: All of them, sir; Barricade, though provoked, did not attack the humans. He did not even transform. When the femme he allowed to drive him came out, she reacted with shock and anger before driving him to her work place. I lost track of him after the store. :: Arcee

There is stunned silence from the other end of the comm. link.

:: He did not attack the humans? He did not even transform? :: Prime

:: Affirmative. :: Arcee

:: That is…unexpected news, but not entirely unwelcome. :: Prime

:: Sir? :: Arcee

:: The plan remains the same, Arcee. Observe and wait for reinforcements. If he makes a dangerous move against the humans, intervene, but only if you must. :: Prime

:: Yes sir. Arcee out. :: Arcee

The comm. is dropped, leaving the two-wheeled transformer alone in the night with her thoughts and more questions than answers.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

Kristen's face when she sees Cade's new paint job is immensely satisfying. She splutters much like I do and says indignantly, "That's impossible! How did you find a professional to repaint that junk heap of a car so quickly?!" I smile.

"What do you mean professional," I ask innocently. "I do all my own paint jobs."

Kristen just squawks and leads her group inside. I pretend to follow, but, once she's inside, hurriedly take a packet of tools from my purse and pop the hood of her car. A few wires here, and twist there, and I'm headed back inside. Dad would be proud. The first two classes pass quickly, and I race outside to get a good view.

Kristen always brags about how she only eats lunch off campus, and, as she struts towards her blue Micra, I take a seat a short distance away and pull out my IPod touch, setting it to record the whole thing.

Kristen sticks the key in the lock and immediately lets go, yelping as an electric current causes her hair to frizz like she just stuck her hand in a light socket. After a minute she tentatively touches the handle again and, when she isn't shocked, opens the door and gets in. She jumps out again with a yelp as soon as her butt touches the super heated seat warmer. Mad now, she reaches around to the back seat and retrieves a blanket, sitting on that instead of the seat. She attempts to start the car, and covers her ears as everything goes haywire; the alarm goes off, the headlights flicker, her seat begins jerking back and forth, and the radio blares out a rap station, cursing every other word.

By now everyone is staring at Kristen as she jumps out of the rampaging car and yells obscenities at it, kicking the tires. Finally she takes the keys out of the car and retreats to the lunch room.

And I've seen it all, safe behind the glass windows of the cafeteria with my new most prized possession; my IPod containing video footage of Kristen throwing a major hissy fit. The teacher on lunch room duty, as well as the rest of the students, watches in slight shock and horror as the furious blonde marches over to where I'm sitting, quietly eating a hamburger and French fries.

"You," she says in a voice cold enough to freeze flames. "You did this!"

"Did what," I ask, as though bored.

"You screwed up my car," Kristen screeches, gesturing wildly with her arms. Shoving away my feelings of amusement, I look at her as if she just said the sky was purple.

"Me?"

"Yes, you, you glitch! You messed with my car, and you are going to pay," she yells, face getting redder and redder with each word. I keep my expression slightly confused.

"What on earth makes you think I did anything to your car," I ask calmly.

"Of course you did it, you sorry excuse for a robot, you just did it to get back at me, you petty glitch!" By now the teacher on duty has come over.

"Miss Barrows," she says sternly, clapping a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "That is quite enough. Report to the principal's office at once." Kristen shrieks in rage but seemingly knows better than to argue with a teacher, as she snarls at me one more time before storming off. The teacher gives me a polite nod, which I return, before returning to her former position.

Everyone slowly unfreezes as the rumor mill grinds to life, running double speed on the new fodder of Kristen's car catastrophe. I finish my own lunch and throw away my trash. My next class is about to start when the intercom calls me to the office where the principal is waiting for me.

Ms. Smith, a stern middle aged woman with bobbed brown hair and glasses, peers at me over their lenses as I enter her office.

"Miss Lash," she begins. "Miss Barrows claims that you tampered with her car as recompense for her accidentally scratching your car yesterday. Yet, your car is in pristine condition."

"If I may," I ask, pulling my IPod from my purse. At Ms. Smith's nod, I unlock it and navigate to my pictures of Cade's paintjob yesterday. Her expression does not change as I show her the pictures of the scratches, the only reaction a slight tightening of her mouth in the corners when I reach the picture of my hood.

"How were you able to get the paint repaired so quickly," she asks finally, eyeing me.

"I do all my own paint jobs, Ma'am," I respond confidently.

"Did you tamper with Miss Barrow's car," she asks.

"I did not touch the engine or other mechanical systems on the 2010 Nissan Micra belonging to Kristen," I say solemnly. _"I just fiddled with the electronics," _I add silently. Ms. Smith nods.

"A mechanic has been called for Miss Barrows," she states. "She will be punished for the damage to your own car."

"There is no need," I say smoothly. "What's done is done, and my paint is fixed anyway. I would appreciate it if it were simply forgotten." Ms. Smith looks at me oddly, but nods.

"Very well," she says. "You may return to class." I give her a small smile and leave. I pass my locker in the hall and pause for a minute, looking at the envelope sticking out of the top slot with my name on it. Frowning, I open it to see a typed note.

"Good job," it says. A picture falls out as well: Kristen, arms flailing, hair poufy, and eyes crazed as she rants at the malfunctioning car. I smile, and, sticking the picture in my pocket, continue to class.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Barricade's POV_

I watch in slight amusement as Teresa smiles and sings along with my radio on the way home from work. I had seen the show this afternoon with the femme's car, and approved. Maybe this squishy wasn't so bad after all. I continued to observe quietly using my sensors as she exercised and slipped into deep recharge.

Activating my holoform, I peer upstairs, listening to the deep rhythm of her breathing before moving toward the tool table and continuing work on the signal cloaking device. My processor wandered as I worked on the device, examining my options. I could finish the device and take to the road, maybe scan a new alt mode, and continue to hide from Decepticons and Autobots alike, on the run, or I could stay with this human, where I was kept warm, washed, entertained, and in good repair, at least for a while.

I muse as I work. I would have more freedom to move on my own, but I was far less likely to find safe places to recharge. I mentally scowl, memories of long lunar cycles spent recharging under overpasses coming to the front of my processor. On the other servo, if I stayed with the femme, I would likely be discovered sooner or later, at which point I could always just kill her and go back to plan B, get a new alt mode and drive. Pleased with my new plan, I do one last check on the signal dampener and install it, just in time for that irritating device the human has next to her berth to go off.

I hurriedly deactivate my holoform, surprised that it was the light cycle already, and waited for Teresa to come thundering down the stairs as usual. I was not disappointed, and she greeted me with a smile and a, "Good morning, Barricade." I repress a shudder as she opens my door and sits down, the routine beginning once again.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

I release a deep sigh and lean back, looking up at the stars. It's Thursday night, after my work out, and I'm standing on my balcony in my pajamas. Taking a bite from the pretzel rod that serves as a midnight snack, I hold it like a cigarette between my first two fingers. The stars twinkle coldly in the night sky through the boughs of the trees surrounding my house. My dad had loved nights like this, even though you couldn't always see the stars. Sometimes he would wake me up, and we would drive out into the country just to see a meteor shower. I pretend to take a pull from my pretzel-ette and smile when my breath becomes a smoky cloud in the chilled air. Chuckling softly, I try to blow a smoke ring, and, after a few failed attempts, glance once more at the stars before going inside. I head up to my bedroom and pause, frowning and listening carefully. Soft clanking is coming from the basement.

Moving quietly, I navigate my way through the darkened house down until I reach the bottom. The sounds stop as soon as I step onto the concrete floor. Frowning slightly, I look around the empty room and immediately go over to the counter. I examine its surface carefully. One of my wrenches has been moved, and a small array of soldering equipment is out of place. Scowling, I look around my workshop again.

The loose purple tank top and fuzzy pants I wear to bed shifts on my body as I do a thorough search of the basement, finding nobody. I huff quietly and, feeling more vulnerable than I have in a long time, retreat to my bedroom after retrieving a metal baseball bat from a closet and placing it beside my bed. Sleep doesn't come easily.

XXXXXXXXXX

**CWC: Okay, sorry for the really short chappie, but the next one is going to be really long. Also starting next chapter I'm going to be putting in little hidden references to the G1 version of Transformers. They may not be in every chapter, but the first review to guess the reference gets an honorable mention.**

**Prowl-muse: Wonderful, now go study for your primitive science course.**

**CWC: Catch me if you can, Prowler! (runs away)**

**Prowl-muse: I hate that girl. (Transforms into a bumper-car version of his Datsun mode and races after CWC, barely keeping up)**

**CWC: REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**CWC: Howdy! Don't shoot! I just finished up exams, pretty sure I passed (Yeah!), so you're getting a chappie. Hope you enjoy, see you at the bottom!**

**Thanks to the reviewers: ForgotMyName2Day and RamenKnight.**

**XXXXXXXXX**

**Chapter Four: Strange Customers**

**XXXXXXXXX**

I give the customer a cheery smile as she checks out and relax back onto my stool. The rest of the school week had gone quietly; Kristen was reduced to an angry simmer due to her replacement car being a bright yellow Volkswagen bug, which, while a nice enough car, was not that impressive, and the rest of the school now held me in a barely contained awe. Today had felt like the longest in a long time, but finally it was Friday, school was over for the week and I had (I glanced at the clock) thirty minutes left in my shift. What could possibly go wrong?

The roar of a powerful engine outside catches my attention and I whistle in appreciation as a hot pink Ducati 848 motorcycle pulled into the parking lot, its driver revving the engine once more before turning it off and taking off her helmet. The driver is a woman, about my height, in black leather pants, boots, gloves, and long sleeve jacket. Her black hair is in a pixie cut with long, hot-pink-dyed bangs flopping over her face, almost covering electric blue eyes.

She stares at me for a minute before turning her back to the store and crossing her arms, looking like she's waiting for someone. I turn back to my work, only to look up again as more engines rumble into the lot.

This time the culprits are a brand new Porsche Cayman painted like a racecar, mainly white with one thick blue stripe with a black 4 bordered by two thin red stripes running down the center, and an absolutely enormous black GMC Topkick. The Porsche driver steps out.

He's a man, probably in his early twenties, wearing blue jeans, a red T-shirt, and a white jacket with stripes that match his car. Black combat boots cover his feet, and a blue almost visor-like pair of sunglasses shields his eyes. Semi-long black hair flops over his forehead and a wide, easy grin spreads across his face as he approaches the woman. He and the cyclist appear to argue for a second before he rolls his eyes and comes inside, smiling a greeting at me before wandering off into the store. The motorcycle rider crosses her arms and leans back against her bike, glaring down at the pavement.

I ogle the cars for a minute, noticing that the Topkick and Cayman have parked on either side of Cade, and the Ducati is directly in front of him. Something is strange about Cade, too. I squint at him, confused. Cars shouldn't be able to tremble, even the little bit that Cade is doing. It must be the heat waves coming off the pavement…on a cloudy day…in the fall. Getting over it, I look back at the cash register and, bored, start sorting coins as my brain turns over the strange looks I got from the new customers. I get absorbed in my thoughts and my quarter-counting.

"Excuse me?"

"BWAH!" I jump when a voice sounds from near my elbow, whacking the black haired guy from earlier in the ear and falling off my stool to bang my head on the bottom of the counter. Visor guy recovers earlier than I do and looks at me through his visor with concerned eyes.

"Are you okay," he asks worriedly; he has a strange accent, and his voice is almost musical like some kind of singer. I sit up and rub my head, moaning.

"I'm good," I say. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to clock you in the ear!" I stand up and am able to regain my stool as he laughs slightly.

"I'm fine," he reassures me, grinning and taking his hand away from his ear. Now that he's closer I can see that he's almost a head taller than I am, and has a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck with the cord trailing down to vanish in a pocket of his jacket.

"So…" I trail off, trying to think of reasons that one of the customers, especially one with such a sweet ride, was talking to me. "Did you need something," I ask finally, and the man gives me a confused look. He quickly gets over it and smiles again.

"Nah, I just wanted to know what you were thinkin' so hard about," he says casually, as though walking up to total strangers and asking them what they were thinking about is normal. I shrug.

"I was just thinking about school stuff. What's your name?"

He hesitates for only a split second before he says, "They call me Jazz, little lady. What would your name be?"

I reply, "Cool name. My moniker is Teresa. So, do you like music?" I gesture to the headphones in his hood.

"Oh, yeah," he answers, laughing lightly. "I love music!"

"Who's your favorite band," I ask.

"It depends on mah mood, honestly. I'm a big Skillet fan at the moment, but it changes by the day," he replies with a shrug. I grin.

"Really? Have you heard Monster?"

He looks almost insulted, giving me an affronted look. He puts one hand on his chest right above his heart and I notice that he's wearing white fingerless gloves. "Terry, you insult me," he says, giving me a small smile to show that he's joking. "Of course! How 'bout Better than Drugs?"

"Now, Jazz-man, you insult me! That song is awesome!" Jazz chuckles.

"Jazz-man, I like that," he says before I ask, "Have you heard of this guy called Toby Mac?"

"Have I ever! Showstopper was my favorite song last week!"

Jazz and I chat, talking music and comparing favorite bands until I happen to glance at the clock. "Oh crap," I yelp, grabbing the intercom from beside the register.

"Attention Ollie's shoppers," I say cheerfully, hearing my voice echo around the store. "Ollie's will close in five minutes. Please bring all last minute purchases to the register. Thanks for shopping at Ollie's, good stuff cheap!"

Jazz looks at me, amused, and steps back a little to let the few last minute customers buy their stuff. Everyone else has left and we're about to start chatting again when a woman's voice breaks in. It's the motorcycle rider from earlier. I hadn't seen her come in.

"Excuse me," she says. Her voice has a strange lilt, almost like an accent, and her eyes are an even brighter shade of blue up close. They almost look like they're glowing. "Can you help me with this?"

"Sure thing," I reply, taking the items from her. "Gifts for some brothers," I guess, gesturing to the stuff. She smiles wryly.

"Something like that," she answers as I put the large wrench and a Whoopie cushion in the bag. She slides a plastic card, and the computer wigs out for a second before reporting that everything has been paid for. I give it a look, but shrug and let it slide. I hand the biker the bag and she says, "Thank you." She hesitates.

"Are you okay," she asks looking at me, obviously very concerned. She reminds me of… "Yes," I say, giving her a strange look. "Are you sure," she asks, persistent. "You're not in any danger?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I answer again. Jazz face palms, looking embarrassed, as the woman purses her lips, not entirely convinced, and walks out.

Jazz looks eager to continue our conversation, but I look at my watch and, giving him my most apologetic look, say, "Listen, it was nice talking to you, but the store is now closed and I have to clean up."

It isn't very subtle, but it works; he smiles sadly, saying, "Alright then. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Maybe," I reply. He walks out and gets into his Porsche. I wait until I hear the three powerful engines roar away before I clean up the store quickly and head out to the parking lot. When I reach Cade I scowl.

Large dents mar the driver's door, beside where the Topkick truck's door would have been. I start to get mad but then sigh and get in, turning on the radio and immersing myself in music for the drive home.

When I arrive, I quickly get the dent puller and yank the large dent out of Cade, thankfully without damaging the paint. That done, I step outside for a minute to enjoy the fall evening, loving the way the fiery sunset matched the hue of the leaves on my oak trees.

I shiver delightfully, enjoying the feeling of every hair on my body stand up from the cold, and decide to have a quiet evening. I go back inside and, fixing myself a cup of hot chocolate, curl up on the couch with a thick blanket and a good book as the light fades from the sky and late afternoon becomes night. I finish my book and look at the clock as it strikes ten.

Yawning, I notice that I'm still in my day clothes and, blanket wrapped around my shoulders like a cape, step outside for the second time. I stand there until my feet and fingers go numb, just staring at the stars. A smile tugs at my lips as I see a trio of shooting stars fly across the sky.

Heading back inside I relax back onto the couch and, reluctant to turn on the TV, simply lie there until my mind fogs and I drop deep into sleep, dreaming of cars and their people.

XXXXXXXXXX

The three Autobots convene in the used car lot of the Ollie's, forming a rough triangle of vehicles.

:: So, first impressions? :: Arcee begins over the comm. link.

:: We should have just shot the slagger. :: Ironhide grumbles, revving his engine slightly.

:: Come on, Ironhide, ya know why we couldn't do that. :: Jazz chides slightly. :: It woulda blown our cover to the humans, not ta mention that it wouldn't 'ave been fair to shoot an unarm'd opponent. ::

:: We still should have shot him. :: Ironhide maintains. :: What about the girl? Is she in any danger? ::

:: Of course she is, she's riding around in a Decepticon! :: Arcee explodes. :: She just doesn't realize it. ::

:: Ya know, I noticed somethin' strange 'bout ol' Cade. :: Jazz remarks. :: He didn't talk. At all. Not even when Ironhide called him a-:

:: We get it! :: Arcee cuts him off. :: What's your point? ::

:: The point is, since when does a 'Con care about maintaining cover? 'Specially when he could just scan a new alt-mode and disappear with this fancy new spark-hider you say he's come up with. ::

:: He does have something to hide his spark signature. :: Arcee states flatly. :: Neither of you could sense him until you were right next to him, could you? And what does him not caring about keeping under the radar have to do with anything? ::

:: Did 'e suddenly start to care about human's lives? :: Jazz asks, sounding innocently curious.

:: What makes you think that Barricade has started to care about the lives of humans? : Ironhide says, sounding suspicious.

:: Because what other reason would 'e have for NOT transformin', shootin' the scrap outta us, and makin' a run for it? :: Jazz asks plainly. The other two fall silent and stop dead.

:: Errr… :: Ironhide says intelligently.

Arcee chews on this new information before speaking again.

:: Regardless, he is still a Decepticon, and he must pay for his crimes against the Autobots and Cybertron. :: Arcee says quietly.

Jazz and Ironhide give quick affirmatives before the three break up, each going their separate ways to patrol the town, making sure that the Decepticon does not escape.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Barricade's POV_

I curse internally as I barely manage to dodge the headlights of the Autobot femme. It had been hard enough just getting out of the house without alerting a sleeping Teresa that I was leaving, now the fragging Autobots had to set up a perimeter around the entire slagging town!

Grumbling, I stalk off and, transforming back into my Mustang form, head back to the small A-frame. I cut off my engine a short distance away from the house and coast the rest of the way into the garage. My holoform manages to find the remote to the garage door and, after glancing around outside, closes the door.

It wanders upstairs and looks down on the youngling sleeping sprawled on the couch. I, in my holoform-suit, think for a minute. If I left her like this, she would be stiff and sore in the morning, and then she would whine and be miserable all day. Better to just move her now than deal with that.

Gently, I pick her up and carry her up the stairs before putting her down on the bed. Examining her again, I pull the blankets up over her form before deactivating my holoform. I was going to have to 'thank' Swindle the next time I saw him; the stupid thing must be malfunctioning.

Shaking it off, I active my recharge sequence. Tomorrow, I would fix that holoform and refine the energy signature masker. Soon I would be able to slip out of the town without the Auto-scum noticing, and I would never see this town, or this human, again. I fight back a wince as the recharge sequence begins to take effect. The malfunction must be affecting my emotion processer; I'd have to fix that soon; phantom sadness could hinder me on the battle field.

XXXXXXXXX

On a hill overlooking the house, a smirk finds its way across the faceplate of a certain Autobot. Readjusting his visor to normal levels, Jazz transforms and rolls back to the main road. This could be worth investigating.

XXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

Groaning, I pry my eyes open and sit up, pushing the covers off me and swinging my legs out of bed. I've already pulled my jeans on when it occurs to me that where I just woke up was not where I went to sleep.

Furrowing my eyebrows, my mouth falls open as I look from my bed to the open door leading downstairs to the living room and back again. My mouth closes with a click as I decide to ignore it and finish getting dressed. I sigh and grab a bowl of cereal for breakfast before picking up my purse and take the stairs down to the basement two at a time, landing with a thump at the bottom. I spread my arms wide in a huge ta da!

"Gooooood Morning, my lovely Barricade! I hope you slept well, because it's Saturday," I say, giving the black and red car a wide grin. Hopping into the driver's seat, I turn on the radio and pull out of the garage with Saturday Night by the Bay City Rollers moving through the air. By the time I get into town, I'm on a music high and feeling good.

Stony Peak is the closest town to Lakeville, where I live, that has a shopping center. I scan the signs and grin as the one I'm looking for comes into view. I pull up neatly outside the store bearing a sign that reads 'Random City: Home of Cars, Comics, and CDs!"

A flash of white, red, and blue barely registers on the edge of my vision as I enter the store.

Shelves about shoulder height radiate out from the entrance, with half of them devoted to comics and magazines and the other half to car parts and models. The walls and back of the store are invisible under the floor to ceiling shelves that are filled with every type of music known to man.

"Hey, Terry! What brings you here," the girl behind the register greets. She is a little shorter than I am, with dyed purple hair in a cute pixie cut. She wears a green shirt and black pants under the hideous orange smock that all employees wear.

"Hey, Hannah," I say, giving her a smile. "Ya got any good music for me?"

"You bet," she says, ducking under the counter and pulling out a box overflowing with CD cases and rolled up posters. "I didn't know if you were still on that retro kick, so I just grabbed anything earlier than 2000 and hoped for the best," she explains, dumping about half of the box onto the counter. I move to glance through the pile as she keeps talking.

"We've got some Queen here, don't worry, I looked through the lyrics, all clean, as well as the Beatles and even some Led Zeppelin. I won't tell you how hard it was to find clean versions of their songs," she adds, wincing slightly.

"Hannah, you're the bomb," I say, grinning as I sort the music discs into two neat stacks. She shrugs, a small smile on her face.

"I try," she replies modestly, green eyes twinkling at the complement.

"What do we have in the car department," I ask, grabbing the smaller pile and putting the rest back into the box.

"Oh, you won't believe this," Hannah says, almost jumping up and down with excitement. That's the thing about Hannah; she could have been one of the popular girls at school before she graduated last year, but she is too in love with cars, superheroes, and music to care about anything else. She's normally really easy going, unless you insult Batman. Then she gets ticked. I watch as she drags a bigger, heavier box out from under the counter, this one filled with paint samples, small car parts, and doo dads.

"What the heck is this thing," I ask as a sparkle of light catches my eye from the bottom of the bin. My breath catches as I haul the thing out and the sparkly is exposed to the light. It is a piece of crystal as big as my head but light for its size, carved into a perfect sphere with markings on it, almost like runes, but I don't recognize them.

"Ohhhhh, shiny," I say, putting it down gently on the counter and rolling it slightly. I'm surprised when it lets out a soft ringing sound and stop it quickly.

"It was found a short ways from that meteor that crashed here a little while ago," Hannah says, also eyeing the ball. "It's probably made of glass, likely worthless," she adds, shrugging.

"Twenty bucks says that this little glow ball goes with me," I offer, seeing no price tag. Hannah shrugs again.

"Make it ten and you've got a deal. Ya want me to ring this up?" I nod distractedly as my friend totals up my purchases and bags them, the ball being the last to go, securely padded and triple bagged.

"Good luck, chika," Hannah says as I leave, smiling and waving. I smile back and wave as best I can with my bags.

"Bye Hannah, I'll try to see you next weekend," I say, and walk out, wrangling the keys from my purse an opening Barricade's back door. I toss the bags in the back and climb back into the driver's seat.

Another flash of color in the corner of my vision makes me turn, but nothing's there. Shrugging, I pull out of the parking space and, after picking up a few more things, start on the way home. I'll do my serious shopping, like for food and stuff, tomorrow. I break a few speed limits on the way home and, as soon as I pull into the garage, grab the bag of CDs from the back, taking the globe with me, and go upstairs to listen to my new finds.

XXXXXXXXXX

**CWC: Sorry if that last bit seems slightly random, but trust me, it will be important much MUCH further on in the story. **

**Prowl-muse: (reads over proposed story line. Optics widen) What the-**

**(CWC appears behind him, hefts a wrench, and whacks the tactician over the helm. Prowl drops, unconscious)**

**CWC: Sorry, Prowler, can't have you telling all my secrets, can I? Okay, so if you read my author's not last chapter, you'll catch the honorable G1 mention in this chappie. First reviewer to get it gets an honorable mention at the beginning of next chapter. Until then, toodles!**


	5. Chapter 5

**CWC: ... Yeah, I have no excuse. Sorry for the late update, but hope this chappie makes up for it. **

**I also screwed up with the honorable mention thing. I was slightly confused when you guys said Jazz, but then I realized what I had done. Sorry! The first to say Jazz was XxLosAngelesGirlxX, but the mention was actually G1 Bumblebee, whose alt mode was an old yellow punchbug. Sorry for the confusion!**

**Thanks to the reviewers XxLosAngelesGirlxX, RamenKnight, Steelrider, Fallen Angel 1234, Redstripe, and ForgotMyName2Day! You feed my plot bunnies!**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Chapter 5: When things get strange...**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

A vicious slant of sunlight pierces the blinds of my living room and stabs my eyes, waking me up. I peel myself up off the couch, wince, and crack my back. Note to self: Sleep in a bed.

Heading upstairs I get ready for the day with a hot shower, and dress warmly in a black tank top, purple T-shirt, black jeans, and a aqua hoody with sleeves that hang down to hide my hands except for the tips of my fingers. Combat boots go on my feet. I look in the mirror and strike a tough looking pose. I feel ready to take on the chaos that is Wal-Mart on a Sunday.

I pull my hair up into a messy bun, inhale some oatmeal for breakfast, and throw a couple of granola bars into my purse. Then I grab a bottle of water and my list from the fridge and head out to do some serious shopping.

I get into my car, tossing my purse in the passenger seat, and head out onto the road. I flick on the radio, trying to build up a good mood before heading into the death trap known as Wal-Mart. A powerful engine catches my attention. It's not Cade; it sounds different. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jazz's Cayman, the woman on her motorcycle, and that monster of a truck coming up behind me fast.

"What the heck," I mutter, speeding up. I'm almost in to town, but traffic in nonexistent, leaving no cars or buffer between me and the three vehicles.

They speed up, and I get even more nervous as the Porsche speeds up until it's in front of us, the Ducati actually drives beside us in the left lane, and the Topkick practically rides Cade's bumper. I scowl at the car in front of me, and am caught completely off guard when the truck rams into the back of my Ford.

"Whoa," I shout, and yank on the steering wheel, trying to regain control. The steering wheel turns itself, taking Cade off road long enough to pass the tri-colored car, and then we're back on the pavement and burning rubber to get away from the three psychos driving the fancy machines. I rack my brain tries to come up with a reason why my car would suddenly drive itself, and come up empty.

Deciding that that really isn't an issue right now, I set aside the part of my brain that is completely wigging out and focus on driving. I put the pedal to the metal and can't help but smile as Cade's engine roars with power and takes off, our speed climbing with each passing mile. Town passes in a flash of color and we've soon taken this little car/motorcycle chase into the country roads, away from other drivers.

The truck is the first to fall back, simply not being built for speed. The Ducati follows suit, and soon both are losing ground fast. The only one keeping up is the Cayman. If they're going to do something, they have to do it now. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I'm horrified to see a section of the Porsche's door pop out and twist with what I imagine to be a sound of tortured metal to form something that looks like a gun, the end glowing a dangerous blue.

It fires, and I feel my car jerk as it makes contact with the bumper. All is chaos. My car leaps off the road, rolling over and over. I try to brace myself against the seat, using anything to hold on, and I hear screaming from nowhere.

Cade's rolling slows, and he balance's precariously on the two right wheels for a second, threatening to end up on his back, before dropping back to earth with a bone-wrenching thud. I stop screaming, and, after a minute, go limp in the seat, the only thing keeping me in place being the seat belt. Panting, I moan and hold my spinning head, barely aware of my three pursuers pulling up around Cade.

My vision starts to go fuzzy, and the last thing I see before passing out are all three cars twisting and changing like the gun did to form vaguely humanoid figures. That's when the darkness sweeps me off my feet and into la-la land.

XXXXXXXXX

_Barricade's POV_

I come back online slowly to find that slagging autobot prodding at my driver's side door. I rev my engine in a snarl and reverse away from him. This causes that oaf of a weapon's specialist and the femme to take aim, and I quickly un-tint my windshield, allowing them to see the human girl who is limp inside my cab.

Ironhide rumbles something unintelligible before subspacing his cannons, followed by Arcee. I drive forward, slowly, and get back onto the road. My internal repair systems inform me that, while my pain receptors would swear that I've just been torn limb from limb, I am well enough to drive, just not fast or far. Wishing I had my original paint job back so that I wouldn't be slowed down, I broadcast one last message in Cybertronian to the three behind me.

"_Come after me, and many will die, starting with her," _I snarl at them before booking it as fast as I am able down the road, headed to Primus knows where.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

I wake up slowly, groaning and clutching my head. "What the heck happened last night," I ask aloud, pressing the heels of my hands hard against my eyelids. I didn't get drunk again, did I? Taking my hands from my face, I look around.

I'm lying across Barricade's front seats, his gear shift digging unpleasantly into my side. The deeply tinted windows keep whatever is outside hidden. Sitting up slowly, I move back into the driver's seat and take stock of my injuries.

My head aches like someone sent a pile driver through it, my chest and hips are sore from where the seat belt cut into me, and, judging by the pain in my stomach, I'm going to have a nasty gear-shift shaped bruise later today. Add to that that I'm sore all over and stiff from sleeping in a car, and you have one very unhappy Teresa.

I lean my head against the cool window glass, considering going back to sleep, and decide not to. Instead I open the door and get out of the car, leaning against it for support. I'm somewhere in the woods, with pine trees growing all around and several boulders lying around the clearing. I manage to stumble over to one and sit down with my back against it, hissing at the pain from my stomach. Running a critical eye over my car, I wince.

Almost every spot on the car is a dented mess, from a nearly-crunched in roof with its cracked and broken lights to the badly torn up sides. Even the hood and back of the car have taken a beating. I sift through my memories, trying to dredge up a reason for why I'm in the forest, in the middle of nowhere, with a car that looks like it's been through a wood chipper and feeling worse than that one time I decided it would be fun to get drunk. As I stare at my poor car, the memories come rushing back, and I feel my eyes widen.

I had been chased halfway across the state by a terrifying Topkick, a demonic Ducati, and Satan's Cayman. Then the Porsche had…done something to its door and turned it into some kind of gun, shot Cade, and I had wrecked. I look at the left side of the back bumper and wince again. It's almost melted looking, covered in ashes and badly dented. At least that part of the memories is true.

But the last part…with the robot cars…

I look at Barricade with new eyes. Clearing my throat, I frantically try and think of something to say, now that I think I know that my car can turn into a giant robot.

"So," I finally begin. "Are you hurt?"

"What do you think, flesh-bag?"

I squeak as a gruff, male voice comes from the beat up Mustang.

"Is there anything I can do to help," I offer after a minute or so of awkward silence.

"Not right now. My self-repair systems with deal with it soon enough," he responds, shifting slightly on his tires. I nod and look around, trying to identify some landmarks.

"Do you know where we are," I ask, gesturing around.

"Well, meat-sack, we are on this blue planet called Earth," the Ford starts in a smart-mouth tone. I roll my eyes.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," I retort, still looking around. The sun says that it's either about ten in the morning or two in the afternoon. I'm going with the later one. I give up looking for landmarks and go back to staring at the damages Mustang in front of me.

"So what are you anyway," I ask. "And why did you drive us out to the middle of nowhere?" Barricade shifts on his tires again.

"I am a Ford Mustang S281 Extreme, formerly a police car," he responds as if talking to a five year old. I roll my eyes again.

"No dip, Sherlock. I can see that you are one mean machine. What I meant was are you an alien or some kind of super top-secret government project? I'm guessing the first one."

"Why would you say that?"

"Several reasons. First, tell me if I'm right." I hear a sound, almost like a sigh, come from the muscle car.

"Yes. I am what you would call an alien."

"And those other three who were chasing you are aliens too?"

"If you're trying to state the obvious, bone-bag, you're doing a fabulous job," Barricade says, voice devoid of all emotion.

"So why were they chasing you," I ask, staring hard at the middle of Barricade's grill. I notice that the rearing horse symbol is absent, and it looks like something had taken its place but had been snapped off.

"Because they want to stick me in a fragging cage," he responds, engine revving angrily at the thought. I nod slowly, and then scowl.

"I didn't ask why you were running from them," I point out. "I was asking why they were chasing you."

Barricade goes completely silent for a minute before saying, "You ask a lot of questions, meat-monkey." I smile grimly. He obviously hadn't expected for me to pick up on that.

"I'm an inquisitive girl," I answer casually, leaning back gingerly on the big rock and stretching my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankle.

"What is that saying your species has about inquisitiveness killing felines," Barricade shoots back.

"You mean that curiosity killed the cat," I ask, and he makes a noise of confirmation. I smile smugly at him.

"Everyone forgets the rest of that saying," I remark, looking up at the blue sky and crossing my arms behind my head.

"Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back," I recite, watching a fluffy white cloud scoot across the sky. Barricade gives me what I interpret as a scoff.

"That is impossible," he says flatly. "Felines cannot be revived by gaining new information."

I roll my eyes. New information: robot cars from another planet take things very literally. I run a critical eye over Barricade and frown. Standing, I examine the lights, broken and warped from the crash.

"You will help repair me," he orders, startling me. I scowl through the driver's side window of the car.

"Of course," I nearly spit at him. "It's not like I can go home; those other robots probably know where I live, and unless you haven't noticed, it's not like I'll be able to put up much of a fight." Walking over to the driver's side door, I hesitate.

"Are you okay to drive," I ask. A mechanical sigh comes from the car.

"No," he says bitterly. "I am lucky to have gotten this far." I nod.

"Well, guess I'm walking then." I retrieve my purse from the passenger seat and am about to walk off when he says, "Wait." I stop, looking back at him.

"My holoform will accompany you," he continues. The air between us starts to waver and I take a step back as a teenage boy materializes.

He's slightly taller than me, with wide shoulders. He wears a black leather jacket tightly closed over what might be a red T-shirt, black jeans, boots, and black fingerless gloves. His hair is a shaggy black, and his eyes, when he looks at me, are a piercing red. I take another step back from the intimidating young man. He only looks about twenty one, maybe twenty two. The man glares under my scrutiny.

"What," he growls in Barricade's voice. I wipe away my look of shock and shrug.

"I thought you'd look older," I answer. He rolls his eyes.

"Our holoforms are programmed to resemble our real forms as much as possible," he states, stepping toward me, and that's when I realize that the guy is wounded. I glimpse a bit of white bandage when his sleeve rides up, and he walks with a limp. He is also thin under the jacket, like he hasn't eaten in weeks. He stalks past me a short ways before looking over his shoulder at me.

"Are you coming or not," he asks gruffly, and I hurriedly catch up with him, glancing back at the real Barricade one more time before we leave the clearing. Human Barricade seems to know where we're going, leading me through the forest in a straight path. I walk beside him in silence for almost ten minutes before daring to speak.

"So…" I say, shoving my hands in my pockets, my purse dangling over my shoulder as I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

"What," he grumbles, glancing at me.

"What do we need to pick up," I ask, looking away and focusing on not tripping over a root.

"I don't know," he says, with less of a growl to his voice. I stop dead, looking at him with disbelief.

"What do you mean you don't know," I ask as he turns around to face me. "You're a car! How do you not know how to fix a car?"

"You're a human. Can you tell me how to fix a human," he retorts. I push down my shock (how does this guy keep surprising me? Oh yeah, he's a FREAKING ALIEN ROBOT!) And start walking again. After a few more minutes of hiking, we emerge onto the far edge of a Wal-Mart parking lot.

Barricade drops back slightly to take a position just behind me and to the right as we enter the super store. Walking into the auto section, I quickly pick out all the tools I'll probably need, along with new headlights and everything necessary to get Cade back to full strength. I pause with my hand on a giant wrench.

What the slagging heck am I doing?! I'm helping an alien fugitive that had been disguising itself as a kick butt Mustang in my garage for the past week! Why on Earth was I helping him? I glance back at the holoform. He's pretending to look at wrenches, but, looking closely, I can see that he looks pale and he's leaning heavily on his left foot. The real Barricade is far away, leaving nothing between me and escape but a glorified hologram. I could run, and there would be absolutely nothing he could do to stop me.

I turn to run, lift one foot in preparation, and freeze. I look at him again. Then down the aisle and out the doors to freedom.

Barricade.

Freedom.

Barricade.

Freedom.

And then I turn, grab one of the wrenches, and give myself a good whack in the head before walking back towards Barricade. He glances down at me.

"Are you done yet," he growls, though I can hear the underlying pain in his voice.

"Almost," I reply. I swing by the camping section and grab some more supplies before we head to the check out. We're almost at the front when something occurs to me. I blanch.

"Barricade," I whisper. "I don't have enough money to pay for this." He grunts and, once the cashier has rung up our order, pulls a shiny card from his jean pocket. He swipes it, and the computer screen shows the blue screen of death for a split second before registering all of our items as paid for. Luckily the girl doesn't notice and sends us away with a smile.

I let out a sigh of relief as we escape the store, and move to the edge of the parking lot. Once hidden by the trees, I pull a hiking back pack from the cart and, after packing it with everything I bought, send the metal box on wheels speeding back into the parking lot. I heave the bag onto my shoulders and grunt, adjusting to the weight. Barricade watches me with unreadable crimson eyes.

"What," I ask, nearly imitating his growl. He imitates my shrug and we start back towards his true body. It takes longer with me lugging the backpack, but we reach him without incident. The holoform dissolves as I enter the clearing, and the real Barricade grumbles, "About time."

I roll my eyes and dump the backpack near my rock. I start to unpack it, pulling out the tools first and laying them out neatly so that I can get to work as soon as possible. Opening a box of granola bars, I unwrap one and stuff the end of it in my mouth before grabbing the first tool I'll need and approaching the… Huh.

"Hey Barricade," I ask, pausing in front of the car. "What do they call you anyway?"

"My name is Barricade," he responds eventually, as if confused. I shake my head.

"I mean your race. What are you called?"

"Some have called us Transformers," he answers, and I nod before walking over to his grille and starting to replace the head lights.

XXXXXXXXXX

I yawn so loudly I almost drop my wrench and glance tiredly at the clock on my IPod. It's after eleven. I had retrieved a battery powered lantern from my back hours ago so that I could continue working on Barricade. As another yawn stretches my jaw, I stand and begin putting away my tools so that they will not get wet from the dew.

"What are you doing, flesh bag," Barricade demands. I turn and scowl tiredly at the car.

"Listen, buster," I say, my exhaustion making me irritable. "I've been in a high speed car chase, found out that my planet has been invaded by giant alien robots who can turn into cars, been in a car wreck, gone to Wal-Mart, and then worked for hours to fix you. I am tired. If I do any more right now, I'll probably do more harm than good. I've already fixed that solar energy converter thing you told me to, so you won't starve to death or whatever, so I am going to sleep. I'll work more when I wake up."

Barricade grumbles but doesn't object when I pull a small tent and sleeping bag out of the book bag. Setting up the tent takes longer due to the bad lighting and my level of awareness, but I manage it. Crawling inside, I pull off my shoes, hoody, and T-shirt before wriggling into the sleeping bag.

"Good night, Barricade," I shout to him, and I barely catch a grumbled reply before I fall into a deep sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

_No one's POV_

Jazz and Ironhide sit still in the empty parking lot, keeping one sensor on Arcee as the femme bot drives restlessly in circles around the two bots.

"I can't believe we let that slagger just drive off," she says bitterly.

"It ain't your fault, Cee," Jazz puts in. "He 'ad a hostage; there was nothin' we could 'ave done."

"I still say we should have blasted 'im," Ironhide remarks in his Southern accent, causing Arcee to turn to him, wheels screeching.

"NO," she shouts. "How many times does Prime have to tell you: we cannot harm the humans!"

Ironhide stops grumbling as they all receive a communication from their leader.

:: Arcee, report. What is your status? :: Prime

:: We made contact with the human femme who is often with Barricade, sir. She appeared unharmed and ignorant. ::

:: I found the little lady's dwellin' and we were ready this mornin' when the fragger emerged. :: Jazz breaks in.

:: We engaged the enemy and were able to drive him off the road, causing him a lot of damage. :: Arcee says, trying to regain control of the communication.

:: We would 'a had the slagger if he hadn't had a hostage. :: Ironhide inputs.

:: He had a human with him? :: Prime asks, shock in his voice. :: Were they damaged when he was wrecked? ::

:: No sir; the girl appeared relatively unharmed. The Decepticon, though damaged, used her as a hostage to guarantee his own escape. He has also masked his energy signature. ::

:: So we have a desperate, damaged Decepticon loose with a human girl in his possession. :: Prime summarizes, the severity of the situation clear in his voice.

:: That is the case, sir. :: Arcee responds grimly.

:: Keep searching for Barricade. The safety of the human is top priority. Primus help him if she is damaged. :: Prime commands.

:: Can I just point out one thing? :: Jazz asks.

:: Proceed. :: Prime

:: 'Ah'm just sayin', he was with the girl for almos' a week before we showed up, and didn't hurt her before. Why would 'e hurt her now? :: Jazz says. Everyone is silent for a moment.

:: Never the less. :: Prime says eventually. :: Finding the Decepticon and rescuing the human is your top priority. Contact me when you have something to report. ::

:: Affirmative, sir. :: Arcee responds, terminating the link. The three vehicles start up and, turning on their headlights, pull out of the lot and onto the road, driving off into the night.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

_I was flying, soaring above the clouds without a care in the world. I smile and close my eyes, finally free. I'm shocked when water splashes my face and I snap my eyes open as my face comes into contact with the cold, dark concrete. I'm not flying any more. _

HONK!

"BWAH!"

I sit straight up, thrashing to try and free myself of the sleeping bag. Unzipping the tent flap, I crawl out of the cloth structure, hair akimbo, to glare at the black and red Mustang.

"What the scrap, man," I demand, managing to extract myself from the tent to stand angrily in front of him.

"You got the required eight hours of sleep," Barricade states, a trace of smugness in his tone. "Now get back to repairing me, bone bag."

Sputtering in anger, I hold my hands up as if strangling the alien before going back in the tent. I slip my T-shirt back on, but it isn't cool enough for my hoody today. Grumbling, I go back outside and make the strangling motion again before sighing and grabbing my tools.

"I don't know how advanced your pain receptors are, but I hope this hurts," I snarl as I crawl back under Barricade and start working, trying not to think too hard about what I'm doing. I work for almost an hour before stopping. Worming my way back out from under the Mustang, I grab a bottle of water and some dried fruit from my book bag for breakfast.

As I swallow the last of the water, something occurs to me. I stop immediately and lower the bottle from my lips, shooting my level seven glare (on a scale from one being 'you are irritating me,' to ten, or, as I like to call it, 'you should have stopped when you had the chance; now you are completely screwed).

"What," the grumpy black-and-red car snaps after a second, noticing my glare.

"You didn't answer my question; why were the other three robots chasing you," I inform him angrily. He gives a bit of a snort. "Obviously, human, if I had intended to answer your question, I would have responded long ago," he says arrogantly. I can almost picture him rolling his eyes and smirking at me.

Getting an idea, I smile smugly and wonder why I had not thought of this sooner. Barricade watches, an air of confusion radiating from him, as I gather up most of my food and the sleeping bag and move them to the top of a boulder almost twice as high as the car. Once there, I roll out the sleeping bag, lie down on top of it, and, taking out a book from the seemingly endless back pack, start reading.

Silence reigns in the clearing for about five minutes before Barricade asks, almost cautiously, "And what, flesh bag, do you think you're doing?" I glance down at him over the edge of my book.

"Isn't it obvious," I ask, a smirk finding its way onto my face. "I'm going on strike." All was quiet for a second longer while Barricade looked up the meaning online, and then he exploded.

"What?! You can't go on strike, fleshy!"

"Can, and am. I don't do any work on you until you tell me what's really going on here," I reply calmly. Barricade chews on that for a short time before giving a rough sound like a chuckle.

"You do realize that you'll need to come down from that rock far before I run out of energy," he asks, sounding smug. I smirk again.

"Not with this little thingy I won't," I reply, pulling a piece of Barricade out of my pocket. The Mustang's engine sputters as Cade goes into shock.

"What the slag-what are you doing with that," he shouts after he's recovered.

"Call it insurance," I say, twirling around one finger. "So, are you going to tell me or not?"

"You little," Barricade starts, and then lines form on the Mustang, pieces shifting and twisting apart. It should have been smooth, but it is jerky and uneven. One appendage, like a clawed arm, manages to form and claw at the ground before the entire car shudders and slowly pieces fall back to form the red and black car. I gape at Barricade, in awe and fear as his holoform fizzles into existence and snarls at me. Barricade shakes his fist at me angrily before stalking over to the bottom of my rock and beginning to climb.

"That's not going to work," I remark casually, turning to sit cross legged and facing him. "Oh? And why not," he asks, his holoform's pale face glaring at me.

"Because I can do this," I say, grabbing a small rock from beside me and throwing it at his hand. It bounces off Barricade's finger and he recoils, losing his grip on the rock, and tumbles head over heels back to the ground. I wince as he lands on his face and does an involuntary somersault. The holoform disappears a few seconds later.

Barricade emits several screeching and grinding noises (probably cussing me out in his native tongue) before rumbling out, with an air of utter defeat in his voice, "Alright, femme, you really want to know what's going on here? Do you really want to know why I am running from my own kind?"

The tone of his voice makes me hesitate, but I bite my bottom lip and nod slowly.

"Then I'll tell you," Barricade says. "But you aren't going to like it."

So Barricade talks, and talks, and talks. He tells me everything, about a beautiful world of metal, shining and perfect, and how corruption came to that world in a caste system where some bots, though they had sparks, were treated as no more than drones. He tells me about a gladiator who fought for something more than his spark, and how he rose in the ranks until he spoke before the high council and threatened them with war if things did not change. Another bot, a mere librarian, spoke as well. He wished for change as well, but thought to achieve it peacefully. The council, thinking they could sway the librarian more easily than the gladiator, granted him their favor and the title of Prime. The gladiator was furious, and, in one fell swoop against the youngling center, brought war to Cybertron.

Nearly all the femmes, who were the primary caretakers of the young, and sparklings, their children, were destroyed, leaving those opposed to the fighter in disarray, and the true goal nearly unguarded.

The Allspark, the spark of Cybertron itself and the source of the sparks of some of Cybertron's greatest leaders.

Those who followed the gladiator wanted it so that they could control Cybertron and those few sparks that came out of the cube. But the Cybertronians who followed the Prime chose, instead of allowing the gladiator to capture the cube, to launch it into the cosmos through a space bridge, dumping it somewhere in the black emptiness of space. Without the Allspark, Cybertron died, little by little, its energy loss hastened by the war, and the war that had grown between the two factions, clearly distinct by now, spread throughout the stars, becoming a search for the lost Allspark. Those who followed the gladiator had dark sparks and little honor, fighting for the pleasure of it or for their own gain. They became known as the Decepticons. The transformers who followed the Prime were nobler and had bright sparks became the Autobots. The gladiator eventually followed the trail of the Allspark to a small planet on the edge of the galaxy, where he crash landed and was sent into stasis for millennia. The Autobots detected the Allspark soon after that, and sent a scout to investigate the strange world. The scout established contact with a youngling of the dominant species and, with the help of three others of his kind and his Prime, was able to reclaim the Allspark. The gladiator was awoken in the process, and the Decepticons who had followed their leader to the planet joined him in a battle against the Autobots.

The fight caused great damage to one of the planet's cities, and ended with the youngling shoving the Allspark into the chest of the gladiator, destroying both him and the cube. Most of the other Decepticons perished in the fight, and all but a few of those that did not have their sparks extinguished fled the planet under the command of the cowardly SIC, a mech by the name of Starscream. One of the Autobots was defeated, but was revived with a shard of the Allspark, and more Autobots were arriving every day.

"The gladiator's name was Megatron, the Prime's name was Optimus Prime, the scout was Bumblebee, and the planet was Earth," Barricade finishes. "The three who are chasing me are Autobots."

"And you are a Decepticon," I say almost breathlessly. "Yes," he rumbles.

"But Megatron is dead," I say slowly, still digesting some of the information. "Yes," he confirms, sounding slightly wary. "And you don't like Starscream," I continue.

"Correct."

"Then are you really still a Decepticon?"

"Of course! What else could I be, a fragging neutral?"

"Well, yeah," I say in a 'no duh' tone. He growls at me.

"You don't get it, femme. I've killed more than my fair share of Autobots; I've been with Megatron since the beginning of this cursed war. They aren't going to let me say, 'Sorry, but I'm not a Decepticon anymore,' and go skipping off into the sunset."

"So surrender isn't an option," I mutter to myself before continuing, "Barricade, you say that you'd been with Megatron since the beginning. Did he change over the course of the war? Did you ever for a second think that what you were doing was wrong?" Barricade is silent for a long time.

"In the beginning, Megatron was a good mech," he says slowly, almost sadly. "He truly cared about Cybertron and changing things for the better, about destroying the caste system and raising up a strong, fair government in its place. That is the mech I swore loyalty too. But, after a while, he did change. He was always cruel, having been a champion in the gladiator pits in Kaon, but taking out the femmes…"

Cade trails off, and, with the light of the setting sun lighting his body on fire, I see him tremble a little bit. "It was senseless," he snarls suddenly.

"There was no point! He did it just because he could, and he doomed our race to feed his own ego!" Barricade is still shaking with rage. "I was glad when he disappeared! I wish he had never been unfrozen! Pit, I would take slagging STARSCREAM over than nut job! I'm glad the fragger is dead, and I hope I never have to see another bot like him again in my life!"

I can hear him breathing, or venting, or whatever they do, hard, probably trying to calm down after his outburst. Moving carefully, I climb down the boulder and walk over to the trembling car. I sit down cross legged in front of him and put my hands in my lap as I wait for him to calm down.

"I think we can come to an agreement," I say calmly. "You don't want the others to find you, you're going to need regular maintenance and repair that comes with your, err, car form, and you'll need to have some contact with the humans of this world if you want to survive without getting noticed," I begin logically.

"I have no real reason to go back to the house, am skilled in fixing cars, and, as a human, can provide a nice buffer between you and the rest of my kind. If I come with you, I may slow you down, but would the Autobots honestly be expecting you to travel with a human? Having me with you will mean your routes will change from what you're used to, making it almost impossible for them to track us, and with your magic hacking-card money is no object. Plus, if they ever do catch up to us, I give you permission to use me as a hostage; you said they were the good guys, so they won't hurt me, and I don't know anything about any plans, so they can't get information out of me."

I take a breath after that rather long-winded speech. I feel like a kid trying to convince their parent to let them stay home from school when they aren't really sick.

"You're one strange human," he says finally, making me smile.

"Glad somebody finally noticed; I've been working on it for years," I say and, standing, walk over to my pile of tools and grab a wrench. "Now," I continue. "Let's get you fixed up, shall we?"

XXXXXXXXX

**CWC: So, what do you guys think? Bad? Good? Review and tell me! **

**Prowl-muse: Maybe they would review more often if you updated on a reasonable schedule. **

**CWC: (glares) In rock paper scissors, paper beats rock.**

**Prowl-muse: But how can paper beat a rock? That... (sparks and glitches out, falling flat on the floor)**

**CWC: (smirks) Always wanted to see how he'd react to that. Anyways, Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Driving with Robots**

**XXXXXXXXXX**

I shiver as I squirm out from underneath Barricade for the last time. Quickly taking a clean cloth and wiping down the Mustang, I grab my hoody and shrug it on. The stars twinkle coldly as I examine my work and smile. Cade looks good as new, almost all of the dents gone, and I even took a little time to fix his paint job.

"And it is," I say with an Italian accent and acting like I'm blowing a kiss. "Finite!" Barricade rolls forward and back on his wheels.

"I'm surprised, fleshy; you didn't make it worse," he says, sounding shocked. I glare at him.

"Why thank you," I say snarkily. Some of the sarcasm is lost as my jaw splits in a yawn.

"Get in, bone-sac, we need to get moving," Cade states, popping open his passenger side door.

"Firstly, don't call me bone-sack. Second, I can't drive right now, Cade, I need sleep," I reply, stumbling towards my tent.

"I'll be driving, fleshy; just get in. We can buy you more supplies later," he says, pulling up between me and the pile. I scowl at him.

"Fine," I grumble. "Just let me collect my personal stuff and we'll leave." Barricade rumbles threateningly but moves back far enough to let me get to the jumble of equipment. I've started rummaging through the mess, looking for stuff I don't want to leave behind, when I hear the clicking and grinding of moving metal. Freezing, I stand up, keeping my back to Barricade, and turn around slowly. My neck cranes up and up and my eyes go wide as I take in his true form for the first time.

He's at least fifteen feet tall and covered with black armor. Red streaks run along his sides, just like they do in his car form, and end at the doors sticking out of his back like short stubby wings. The door-wings twitch, stiffening and moving up slightly. My wandering eyes find his face, and I take a quick breath. Red optics dominate his face, which appears to be made of surprisingly expressive plates of metal as they stretch and shift in a small, relieved smile. A small red chevron pokes up from his head like the crest on a bird. The creature stretches its arms above its head, completely ignoring me, and rolls its shoulders like I do when I've been sitting folded up in a chair for too long, which I guess is kind of what happened to him.

"Barricade," I ask quietly, hating the tremble in my voice. He drops his arms instantly as his bright red optics land on me.

"What," his gruff voice rumbles from the machine in front of me, sounding much louder now that he's in his true form. I shrug, trying to stay casual when faced with a fifteen-foot-tall, able-to-squish-me-without-trying, used-to-be-an-evil-minion robot that can transform into a car and hide in plain sight.

"Just making sure it's you," I respond. It takes all my courage to turn my back to him, but I do it and continue going through the stuff. Soon I have most of the food, a change of clothes, and the sleeping bag stuffed in the book bag and my purse over my shoulder. I turn back to Barricade, saying, "Ready." He nods and seems to shrink into the form of the Mustang, a car I had thought of as big before now. The passenger side door pops open and I get in, settling the purse and book bag at my feet.

"What is your malfunction, femme," Cade asks as his engine revs and we pull out of the clearing.

"What mean do you," I ask, wincing as my verbal tick decides to make itself known.

"Your frame is shaking. Why," Barricade presses. I flinch slightly.

"I'm not shaking," I snap, crossing my arms after putting on my seatbelt.

"You think I don't know what goes on in my cab," he asks flatly. I press my lips together and look out the window. He's already managed to get back on the road and we're quickly moving through the forest. I glance over at the empty driver's seat.

"You better put your holoform thingy in the seat," I remark. "It wouldn't help us to get chased by the cops."

"My windows are tinted too darkly for any human to see inside. As if they could catch me, anyway," he scoffs.

"Note the word 'chase," I say with a smile. "I said nothing about them actually catching you. Where are we going anyway?"

"I haven't chosen a destination yet," he answers as I watch the steering wheel turn on its own, adjusting minutely for the changes in the road.

"Do you know where the Autobot base is," I ask.

"I think it was somewhere in Nevada, but from what I've heard they've moved to an island base. Stupid move for the grounders. They probably still have a token force at the base in Nevada, though, so we should avoid that," Barricade answers.

"So we're just wandering around the United States," I ask, looking over at the steering wheel and raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he replies, a trace of amusement in his tone. I smile wryly.

"Well, at least that will make us harder to track," I remark, leaning back in the seat and adjusting the seatbelt. "Wake me when we stop," I order him, turning on my side and curling into the seat. I catch a glimpse of the stars in the sky speeding past before I'm out like a light.

XXXXXXXXXX

_No one's POV_

The rumble of powerful engines fills the clearing as a Porsche, Topkick, and Ducati pull into the circle of trees. They had followed the trail of leaking fluids to this spot. The sound of twisting metal rings out as the three transform into their bipedal modes. Arcee looks around, quickly identifying the pile of human belongings on the ground beside the boulder and the clawed up earth of a Cybertronian's footsteps.

"They've already left," Ironhide points out the obvious. Jazz crouches next to the churned dirt and touches it with a finger.

"Well, this grass is still alive, so they can't have been gone more than a day," he says helpfully.

"Can you tell anything else," Arcee asks.

"Nah, I ain't Hound," Jazz replies, looking down at the dirt regretfully. Arcee nods and kneels next to the jumble of items, sharp blue optics picking out tools, a pop up tent, and food wrappers.

"At least the Con is keeping her fed," Jazz remarks, coming over and examining the pile for himself through his bright blue visor. The pink femme nods distractedly before standing back up and walking away. Jazz waits for her to be out of site before pulling a small device out of subspace.

It looks like a giant sized Nintendo DS. He presses a few buttons and the screen lights up, displaying what looks like the inside of a bag. A few more twitches of his fingers, and the angle shifts until it is looking out of the purse. A girl with brown hair is sleeping peacefully, the angle revealing that the camera is at her feet. Jazz smiles and subspaces the device again before standing and going back to his team.

"So, what's the plan," he asks casually. Arcee vents loudly and shifts her weight on her pedes.

"They obviously stayed long enough for Barricade to force the human to fix him. Now he's gone and he has a head start, a hostage, and a way to hide his spark signature and we have a pile of human belongings," she says flatly. "We've lost him. All we can do is return to base and keep an optic out for any sightings."

Ironhide grumbles, unhappy at leaving a human, much less a girl, in the clutches of the Cons before taking out his anger on a tall pine tree. It topples after a single shot, but he continues to shoot until it is no more than a pile of ash resting at the bottom of the trench created by his weapon. Arcee, for once, doesn't scold him. They both transform and start to drive out of the clearing. Jazz shifts on his pedes as Arcee stops and turns around to look at him.

"I'm gonna patrol around here for a while," he explains. "See if there's anythin' we missed."

"You did all you could, Jazz," the femme says softly. Jazz nods.

"I know, I'm just gonna drive around a bit. Catch ya later, 'kay?"

"Alright. I'll inform Prime," Arcee relents, driving after Ironhide. Jazz smiles and pulls the camera screen out of subspace again. It still shows the sleeping girl. He presses a different button on the side of the device. The screen shrinks and the camera view is shifted to the top right corner of the screen. The rest of it shows a green map of the United States with a triangle at Jazz's current position. Far away, almost in a different state, a darker green dot blinks steadily. Jazz nods to himself and, sliding the device away, transforms and drives off towards the road.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

I yawn hugely and blink tired eyes, trying to focus. The seatbelt is cutting into my leg, so I sit up straight and look out of the windshield.

"Where are we," I ask sleepily as I rub the grit out of my eyes.

"Somewhere on the same continent," Barricade answers blankly. The sun has risen, and, according to Cade's clock, it's almost ten o'clock. Tall pine trees line the sides of the road and the median, making it impossible to see the cars on the other side. A broad green sign informs me that we're close to Raleigh, North Carolina, and heading west.

"Have you figured out a destination yet," I ask casually, adjusting the bags at my feet and my seat belt so that it goes behind me instead of across my chest.

"Not at this time," Barricade rumbles, and I notice that his holoform is turned off.

"You should probably activate that holoform now. Even if you leave the windows tinted, it will just make us look suspicious," I mention, keeping my face towards the scenery. A short sound, like static, and the black haired man is sitting in the driver's seat. I examine him out of the corner of my eye, and am glad to see that, while he's still thin, the bandages are gone, and he doesn't seem to hold his jacket quite as close. His red eyes even seem to shine a little brighter.

"Why is your holoform so thin," I ask, not considering that it might be rude. The male glances at me irritably, and I shrug simply before turning to look out the window again, propping my head up on one elbow. After a while I get bored of staring at trees and sigh deeply.

"Mind if I turn on the radio," I ask, left hand inching towards the dial in the middle of the dashboard. I don't have to touch it as the little screen lights up and the knob spins on its own, stopping on an old rock station. I look at the dashboard thoughtfully and with no small amount of surprise.

"Huh," I huff, and shrug to myself before going back to staring out the window.

"What," Barricade asks, holoform turning its head towards me. I shrug again.

"I don't know, I just wouldn't have thought that you would like Stairway to Heaven," I answer. Cade grunts.

"If there are two things you organics make right, its cars and music," he says, looking back out the windshield. He winces suddenly like he smelled something bad and glances at me almost reproachfully. "Most of the time, anyway; I don't know what you humans were thinking when you allowed that Lady Gaga femme run loose."

A startled laugh finds its way out of my throat before I can stop it, and Barricade's holoform gives me a strange look. I brush him off with one hand as I swallow my laughter and straighten up in the seat again. He merely rolls his eyes and focuses on the road again. I fight back another smile as Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody comes on the radio.

Almost thirty minutes pass with old rock songs playing on the radio and an only slightly awkward silence between us. I'm about to try and start a conversation when my stomach makes a gurgling noise. My face heats up a little bit when Barricade looks down at my torso like something's about to claw its way out and attack him.

"What the Pit was that," he asks, sounding horrified. I glare at him.

"That would be my stomach," I answer irritably. "It means I'm hungry." Cade looks at me blankly. "You know, fuel?" Cade nods in sudden understanding and makes his holoform look around.

"Pull off at the next exit and I'll find a place to eat," I inform the sentient muscle car, who follows my instructions, stopping in the parking lot of a McDonald's as my stomach lets loose another round of strange noises. I groan at the pang of pain that accompanies it and grab my purse.

"All right, here's the plan: I'm going to go inside, buy some food, and come back out here to eat. If you don't mind food in your interior, we can keep going, but otherwise we can take a break," I say, facing the grill of the car.

"Fine," Barricade growls, and I give him a dry smile before heading inside. One snippy employee and a glaring contest later, I have my food and am heading back outside to eat at the picnic table in front of my Mustang. Cade keeps playing music quietly as I quickly eat my burger and fries. It always surprises me what boys will do when confronted by a hot car.

I just get up to throw my trash away, I'm not even gone for a minute, and when I come back I can hardly see Barricade through the crowd of teenage boys and a couple of girls. Shoving my way through, I manage to get over to the driver's side door and climb in.

"What are you doing," Barricade's voice reverberates through the car, going unheard by the general chaos of the small crowd surrounding the car.

"Sorry, I couldn't exactly get in the passenger's side and have you drive off with no one at the wheel," I explain quickly, trying to avoid getting ejected from the car. Cade grumbles quietly as I pull the keys out of my purse and start him up. The car-rabid teenagers back off slightly at the roar of the engine, and I take a minute to grin at the powerful sound before honking the horn loudly. The people back off enough for me to back up, get out of the parking lot, and back on the highway.

"Whew," I let out a breath. "That was a little crazy."

"Agreed," Barricade's voice seems to come from everywhere at once, mainly sounding from the radio. I bite my lip and look at my hands on the steering wheel.

"Do you want me to pull over or," I trail off hesitantly, reluctant to let go of the small measure of control I now have. Barricade considers for a minute before responding, "You may drive for now, human; I need to rest."

With that statement, there's a strange sense of something fading, and I get the feeling that Cade has just fallen asleep. Allowing years of practice to take over, I keep us on a steady course westward, heading for places unknown. Barricade stays silent for the rest of the day, not even waking when I turn up the radio or stop for supper at a convenient Wendy's. A yawn splits my face in half as I activate the headlights to fight back the growing darkness. Passing a slow mini-van, I continue down the highway.

"Wilmington, twenty miles," a sign tells me, and I sigh gratefully. Pulling off into the city, I find a place to park for a second and, reaching over the steering wheel, thump the dashboard of the Mustang a couple of times. Instantly Barricade awakens, the radio blaring loudly for a second. I frown as, for a split second, lines and seams appear on the inside of the car like Cade's about to transform, only to disappear as quickly as they came. I shudder to think of what would happen to me if I was inside him when he transformed.

"What the slag," Cade rumbles sleepily, sounding the least angry that I've ever heard him.

"Hey, it's night time, we're in a city called Wilmington, and I'm beat. Unless you feel like risking a wreck, you better take over," I brief him on the situation.

"All right," he says. "Get in the passenger seat and I will take control." Getting out of the car, I shiver slightly in the cold air, rubbing my arms before ducking back into the passenger's seat. We get back on the highway, Cade not bothering to activate his holoform, and continue to drive. The cold air has woken me up some, and I look around at the scenery.

Night has truly fallen now, the only light being the spotty glare of random street lights and the almost constant twinkling of other headlights and taillights sparkling like fire flies through the trees. Curling up on my side, I keep looking at the lights that shine.

"You would not believe your eyes," I sing softly. "If ten million fireflies, lit up the world as I fell asleep." _"'Cause they fill the open air, and leave tear drops everywhere. You'd think me rude but I'd just stand and, stare," _the radio continues along with me, playing softly as I drop off to sleep, a small smile on my face.

XXXXXXXXXX


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: Contains attempted rape. **

**XXXXXXXX**

**Chapter 7: Plans and Plots**

**XXXXXXXX**

_Barricade's POV_

I listen to the song the girl was singing as I drive, making sure that she is deeply asleep before switching to something less likely to put me into recharge. I had gotten a few good hours today while she drove, except for the rude awakening. At least she had good taste in music.

Hours pass, night turning to dawn, and I activate my holoform for the day. The sun has just risen over the horizon when suddenly, I can't drive anymore. If I were in my true form I'd be shuttering my optics as I take in the huge expanse of water the just appeared at the end of the road. A quick search informs me that this obstacle is the Atlantic Ocean and too big to cross without the aid of a ship. I decide to take this opportunity to rest and shut down in a parking lot not far from the short expanse of sand that the humans call a beach. Another snippet of song drifts through my processor as the recharge sequence.

_"It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep, 'cause everything is never as it seems." _

XXXXXXXXXX

_Third POV_

Jazz rubs his hand across his helm, a habit he had picked up from the humans, careful to avoid the protruding black sensors. The tracker in his servo confirms that, after a no-doubt exhausting 27 hour drive across the country, Barricade and the human have finally been stopped by the Atlantic Ocean. Transforming back into his Porsche form, Jazz gets on the road a drives off to the opening strains of Train Train by Blackfoot. He had some catching up to do.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

The harsh cry of a seagull is what wakes me up from more dreams of flying high and wet pavement. Staying still, I open my eyes slowly and blink. The seatbelt has adjusted during the night to hold me securely against the seat, and one of the windows is rolled down to let in a soft sea breeze. There's the same empty feeling in the car that there was when Cade was asleep yesterday.

Sitting up carefully, I undo the seatbelt and step out of the car. Looking around, a happy grin stretches across my face as I take a deep breath and lift my arms above my head. Barricade sure did choose a nice place to stop for the night. We're right up close to a beach, with Cade's tires practically on the sand. Waves crash quietly against the shore only a few feet away.

Deciding to have some fun while my huge, robotic ride is asleep, I carefully drag my book bag out from the front seat and put it on the sand, pulling a small blanket from somewhere at the bottom. I spread the blanket out and, peeling off my dirty hoody, shoes, and socks, release my hair from its scrunchie before giving a quiet whoop and running down the beach and into the water.

I go until I'm past the breakers and duck under a wave, taking the opportunity to hopefully wash at least some of gunk from my hair. I've just come up for air when I hear the clicking and whirring of Barricade transforming. Turning around, I jump up just a swell comes so that it pushes me high into the air before waving at him, a smile on my face.

"Good morning, Cade! Come on in, the water's fine," I shout as the energized water slowly drops me back to the sandy bottom of the ocean.

"Have you lost your processor," Barricade yells back from the shore. "Get back here!"

Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath and duck under the water, swimming parallel to the ground and only breathing when I really need it. I advance on the beach until I'm on my stomach with the top half of my face sticking out of the water and the rest of my body barely under, moving slightly with the waves. I stand up, running my fingers through my hair, and crane my neck to look up at him.

"Geez, 'Cade, what crawled up your tail pipe and died? Calm down, I was just getting a swim. I probably smell a little ripe from not showering for at least two days," I explain, blinking up at his silhouette. I frown suddenly. "Aren't we supposed to be laying low or something? A giant robot on the beach isn't exactly laying low."

"There are no humans within two miles of this spot," Barricade states before sinking to sit down on the pavement. His metallic legs stretch out over the beach and about three feet into the water. Cade crosses his arms over his chest, and for a second I'm assaulted by an image of a chibi Barricade pouting in the sand because he doesn't want to go to the beach.

My large friend gives me a strange look as I roll onto my side and curl into the fetal position, having a hard time breathing because I'm laughing so hard. "What's so funny, fleshling," he asks, glaring at me.

"Just a funny mental image," I blow him off, climbing to my feet and wandering over to my blanket, which is now in Cade's massive shadow. Scowling, I drag it a few feet to the right and into the sunlight before flopping down and spreading my hair out to dry, combing it out with my fingers the best I can. That done, I lay back and drape an arm over my eyes. My peaceful rest is disturbed when a shadow blocks out the sun. Removing my arm, I glare up at Barricade.

"Not cool," I say flatly, sitting up. I swear that Cade smirks at me as he changes back into the Mustang. He pops open his driver's side door.

"Get in, human, we need to find you fuel and a place to clean up," Cade orders. Rolling my eyes, I shrug my hoody and shoes back on, pull my gross hair back up with an equally dirty hair scrunchie, roll up the blanket, and clamber into the muscle car.

"Aw, Cade, I didn't know you cared," I almost purr while I jam the blanket back into the book bag.

"I don't," he responds instantly. "I just don't want you getting disgusting organic stuff all over my interior." Wendy's is the closest fast food place, and as such ends up serving me lunch. Afterwards Barricade parks in front of a motel. I hop out and walk into the lobby, ordering a room for the night from a slightly freaked out looking desk attendant. I must look worse than I feel. It's a simple room, with two beds, a bathroom, microwave, and a TV. Retrieving my book bag and purse from Barricade, I drop them on the bed and, grabbing a change of clothes and my hairbrush, hurry into the bathroom.

Stripping, I step into the hot water and breathe a sigh of relief as I feel the heat and pressure scour the grime from my skin and hair. The water flowing down the drain is almost brown for a moment, and I make sure to scrub very well. I don't know when I'll next get a chance to take a shower. Stepping out, I wrap my wet hair in a towel and dry off quickly. Dressing in another pair of black jeans and a pink T-shirt, I draw a smiley face in the steam on the mirror before emerging into the hotel room.

I squeak and pick up one of my shoes to throw before I recognize Barricade's holoform perched on the edge of one bed, arms crossed. He glares at me when I throw the shoe anyway.

"What the Pit are you doing in here," I demand, borrowing one of the words I had heard him use when I had tugged particularly hard on a delicate piece of machinery while repairing him.

"Making sure you don't run off," he responds calmly, reaching up to rub his forehead where my shoe had struck. I roll my eyes at his foolishness before sitting cross legged on the other bed. I flick on the TV as I grab my brush and start taming the wild mess on my head I call hair. Cade is quick to swipe the remote and starts flipping through the channels as I struggle.

I've finally made some headway, having gotten almost all the hair on the left of my head into a tangle-free wad when he asks, "What the slag is this?!" Glancing at the TV, I blush and, snatching the remote, change the channel before reaching over and bopping the solid hologram over the head with it.

"Bad robot," I scold, going back to my hair. "If you want to look at porn, search the web while I'm asleep, don't do it on TV when I'm awake."

Barricade actually blushes as I go back to my hair, now keeping half an eye on the television to make sure my new friend isn't watching something he shouldn't. After a couple more minutes of now cautious searching, Cade finally settles on a new channel broadcasting the weather forecast for the next few days, which, according to the painfully enthusiastic weather lady, looks to be absolutely miserable, with rain all week. Some of it may even freeze, this being North freaking Carolina after all.

My hair finally finished, I twist it up into a firm bun and twist around to glance at the alarm clock before propping my elbows on my knees, putting my chin in my palms, and staring at him. Slowly and methodically, I start running over the events of the past few days in my head.

First I find a Mustang of all cars parked in the for sale lot at the store where I work, then I get into a minor girl-war at school with that demon-child Kristen, meet two strange people who, now that I think about it, may be alien robots, participate in a high-speed chase, and get in a car wreck. After that I find out that my new muscle car is not only sentient, but a rogue bad-guy in an interplanetary war and currently a fugitive from the good guys. On top of that, he can transform into a fifteen-foot tall war machine capable of squishing me under one foot, has instant unlimited access to the internet, and probably has a couple of kick-butt guns hidden somewhere on his person as well.

"You know, I used to have a plan," I say off handedly to Barricade, gesturing vaguely in the air as I start talking. "I was going to work through high school, go to college, become a mechanic somewhere in a small town, maybe travel a little bit before settling down to live the rest of my life in peace. Then I saw you sitting in that lot. Now, barely a week later, I've dropped out of high school, unofficially, to go on the run with a wanted criminal from a war that's been going on longer than the human race has existed, and said criminal is a gigantic-freaking-robot with who-knows-how-many weapons who can transform into a car."

Barricade is now watching me warily, caution in his red eyes. I simply smile dreamily at him. "I am completely screwed," I tell him flatly. Grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed, I shove it into my face and scream into it. By the time I've finished, Cade is looking severely creeped out.

"Don't worry," I assure him. "I don't do that often." I offer no other explanation, and eventually he shrugs and turns back to the TV. Silence falls again.

"So why are you so skinny," I ask with a smile, causing him to smile and drop his head forward.

"Do you fleshies EVER shut up," he asks, exasperated. I give him an innocent smile.

"Nope," I answer cheerfully. "Now answer the question."

"There is something on Cybertron that we call energon. It is our life blood and energy source, providing everything from fuel to ammunition. We can change other energy into a crude form of energon, like I do with sunlight and gasoline, but it's like drinking dirt compared to the real thing. Don't even get me started on high grade," Barricade responds, trailing off almost wistfully at the mention of this energon stuff.

"What's high grade," I ask anyway. "I think the closest thing I could compare it to would be alcohol," Cade responds almost guiltily, and I stare at him in shock.

"Wait, you mean you guys can get drunk?!" The thought of somebody as big as Barricade getting tipsy is both scary and hilarious. He nods abruptly and goes back to staring at the screen. Figuring out that I'm not going to get anything else from him, I sigh and scoot around to watch the news as well.

After expanding on the forecast (oh joy, rain!) the obnoxiously blonde woman goes on to talk about the war, the President, the latest celebrity make-ups and break-ups, and the plans of the local town to repaint the public bathrooms. The last one is the straw that breaks the camel's back, and I groan before flopping backward on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

Rolling off the bed, I stand up and grab a notebook from the book bag and dig a pencil out of my purse without looking in. A piece of cold metal brushes my hand, but I disregard it as my now obsolete keys. Finding the small graphite stick, I reclaim my seat, cross-legged, on the bed, facing Barricade's holoform. Putting the tip of the pencil to the paper, I start to sketch, tracing dark lines against the stark white paper.

The turmoil in my head calms down to a steady trickle as the image starts taking shape, allowing me to see each problem clearly. As my mind wanders, my fingers move, shading here, sharpening a line there, until Cade's rough voice breaks my concentration.

"What are you doing," he asks. I ignore him, putting the last few finishing touches on both my drawing and my plans. "Answer me, fleshie," Barricade growls just as I toss the notebook at him, which he catches nimbly. Darn war-honed reflexes. He examines the pad carefully, looking at the picture.

It's his holoform, leaning back against a wall, one leg propped up against it and arms crossed, next to his real form, separated by a jagged black line. Both Barricades are staring with bright red eyes/optics and small smirks that just scream 'You gotta problem, punk?'

Cade grunts and gives the notepad back to me, his holo quirking an eyebrow when I stand and slip on my shoes and hoody. "We need to go to the local library, or somewhere with a computer," I inform him, grabbing my purse and the room key before walking outside. I hear his holoform fizzle out of existence as I approach his real form and hop in the driver's seat.

"Why," he asks as I pull out of the parking lot and start cruising around, looking for anything that might be a library.

"One, to let people know that I haven't been kidnapped, two, to print out a map, and three, to see if there's any news about those crazies who were chasing us," I explain, finally locating the large brick building. Parking quickly, I jump out. "Use your holoform and go fill up with gas," I tell Barricade. "We may need to leave quickly."

His holo nods at me and drives away as I head inside. An old woman with puffy white hair points me in the direction of the computers, and I quickly claim the one farthest away and facing a blank wall.

Pulling up Google, I log on to my email and send a message to Hannah. The message tells her that I'm fine, just wanted to travel, and that she's to go my house ,take the folder labeled 'Just in Case' from the bookshelf, and take it to my school. They'll handle it from there. After that, I go back to Google and use the map function to print out a general map of North Carolina, Virginia, and Georgia, so that either direction we went I'd know where we were going.

A third trip to Google has me typing in 'driverless cars.' A bunch of conspiracy websites instantly pop up, most from Mission City (no surprise there). One catches my eye, and I click on the link. "Driverless Porsche Spotted," the headline proclaims, the location being a small town on the eastern edge of North Carolina.

"Dang," I mutter, exiting out of the link. Pushing the chair a little away from the computer desk, I brace my hands against the small of my back and lean, groaning as a series of small pops sound off from my spine. Standing, I wave good bye to the smiling librarian and head back outside. Barricade is waiting for me out in the parking lot leaning casually against…himself. That's going to take some getting used to.

"What did you find," he demands as I cross over to the passenger side and jump in.

"I'm in the clear with school, I have maps for the states north and south of us, and I found a news report of a driverless Porsche on the other side of the state. Looks like that Jazz guy is still chasing us," I report as Cade's holoform takes the wheel and starts driving back to the motel. "How did you do? Did you get any food or just gas," I ask.

"My tanks are full and yes, I did grab some human fuel," Cade responds. "We are going to the north, and we won't be stopping very often." Nodding, I get out of the car as we arrive at the room and go inside. Taking a second, I pack everything I won't need for the night back up in my book bag. That done, I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. It's that strange time when it's too early to go to bed but too late to do anything.

Normally I'd be at work or doing my homework, but now I had no job and I was a high school dropout. Shrugging, I leave my bags in the room and walk outside, getting back inside Barricade.

"What are you doing," he asks, confused.

"I'm bored," I explain blandly. "You wanna just, drive around for a bit?"

My hopes are crushed when he snarls, "Human, I have just driven for twenty-seven Earth hours straight, only stopping when you required fuel. I am slagging _tired. _The only thing I 'wanna' do is get some fragging recharge, so stop bothering me." Feeling just the tiniest bit guilty, I quickly get out. Revving his engine, Barricade activates his glaring holoform as he drives away, leaving me standing there in the parking lot. Frowning slightly, I retreat back inside to stare blankly at the TV for a few hours before going to bed. My last thought before I went to sleep was, "What am I going to do if he doesn't come back?"

XXXXXXXXXX

_Barricade's POV_

What didn't that fragging human understand about being tired? UGH! My engine revs angrily in a snarl as I speed through the streets of the small town. My holoform stares blankly at the road, not displaying any emotion as I drive to edge of town. I stop on the edge of a small cliff overlooking the town below.

Where the human is.

The human who trapped me in a garage when we first met; the human who was responsible for other squishies scratching the Pit out of my paintjob; the human who took too long to refuel; the human who sleeps too much of the time; the human who can't even reproduce an image properly on the primitive tools they use; the human who is probably the only squishy on the planet that was dumb enough to not run away when confronted with a twenty-foot-tall death machine. I vent harshly. Switching into reverse, I start back down the hill towards the hotel.

When did night fall? The streetlights have come on, not that I need them, casting the streets in a yellow glow. A light rain starts to fall and I allow myself a quick shudder as I come up to the motel. The door to the hotel room is open. I activate my holoform and scowl. Stalking in, I stop short as I see what's going on.

The seedy adolescent from the front desk has Teresa pinned against the bed, a short knife against her throat, and is glaring at me with all the arrogant anger his acne-spotted face can muster.

"Turn around, and walk away," he orders. I ignore him, my gaze locked on Teresa. She's staring at me with strangely fearful wide eyes, normally neat hair thrown around in disarray. "'Cade," she breathes, panting slightly. "Go on. Me and the girl just have a few things to discuss. Walk away, and pretend that none of this ever happened," the male draws my attention, smirking arrogantly and straightening up but still keeping the blade to Teresa's throat. He makes a shooing motion at me, like I'm some kind of dog. That's when I snap.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

It's the motion that does it. That stupid boy from the desk apparently hadn't been staring because I was dirty. He had come in a few minutes after I had fallen asleep, waking me with a gleeful smirk and a knife to the throat. Then Barricade had walked in and frozen, red eyes hidden by his usual dark sunglasses, and the boy had spoken to him and made the shooing motion. It's the motion that does it.

Barricade straightens slowly, and he seems much bigger with his form silhouetted by the night sky. Slowly he reaches one hand up and takes off his shades. The boy's hand starts to shake as Barricade's red eyes shine out through the darkness. His unnaturally white teeth glint as he bares them in a demonic grin which swiftly turns to a snarl of fury.

"Nobody," he growls. "Nobody touches my squishy." Then he attacks. The boy quickly takes his knife away from my throat to try to defend himself and fails miserably. Everything is chaos in the darkness as Barricade tackles the boy away from me. Scrambling up, I crawl along the floor until I reach a wall. I stand and feel along it, running my hand up and down. Light floods the room as I hit the switch.

Barricade stands, still as a statue, above a whimpering boy. His holographic hair isn't even mussed, but the desk boy is staring up at him with black eyes the size of dinner plates, his blonde hair spiked and slightly bloody from a cut on his forehead. My stomach turns as I catch sight of one of his arms, twisted at a strange angle, probably broken. Barricade looks at me with a slightly bored expression.

"We need to leave," he points out. I roll my eyes, aware of a weird numbness spreading through my body. "Thank you Captain Obvious," I say sarcastically, moving to the bathroom. Gathering up my stuff, I turn around at when I hear a small whimper. Barricade steps away from where he was kneeling over the boy and lifts his boot off my now unconscious would-be rapist's arm. Would-be rapist. I shudder and push away the thought for a later time.

"Barricade, stop torturing the fool and help me gather my stuff," I say impatiently, cramming a random shirt into my bag. Rolling his eyes, Cade grabs my purse and presents it to me as I stuff the rest of my junk into the book bag. I'm out the door and almost inside Cade's real body when I remember something.

"Wait," I shout, throwing my things into the car. Going back inside the room, I step over the comatose teenager and grab the phone from between the beds. The phone beeps three times as I dial, and then a woman's professional voice comes from the other end.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I would like to report an attempted rape at the motel on Hunter Street," I say, eyeing the body on the floor. The person on the floor is instantly sympathetic.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay," she gushes instantly.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but the bozo isn't. My brother went a little overboard defending me. The guy definitely has a broken arm, maybe a concussion; he's unconscious."

"Wow. Some brother you got there." I chuckle.

"Tell me about it. So anyway, you might want to send an ambulance for the sleaze ball, and a police car too. Me and my bro are going to go ahead and get out of here," I say casually as the boy on the floor starts to moan.

"Femme, is that human still unconscious," Barricade calls from outside, having deactivated his holoform. Grabbing a thick book from the bedside table, I whack the boy over the head with it. He stills.

"Yep," I shout to Cade before returning to my call.

"Sorry, my brother wanted something. What did you say?"

"You can't leave just yet, miss, the doctors are going to want to look you over, and the police will need a statement," the lady repeats, sounding surprised that I would want to leave.

"Sorry, but I'm not going to stick around. Don't worry about the boy, though; I think he'll confess easily enough. My brother and I will be gone by the time your boys get here, so good bye! Have a nice night," I finish, hanging up the phone as the woman on the other end starts to protest. I head out the door.

"Barricade, we gotta go! They're sending the police!" Hopping in the passenger seat, I smile as the buckle slides over my torso and Barricade guns it away from the motel. Police sirens sound in the distance and I can barely see the red and blue lights converging on the motel as we drive away, heading out of town. The radio stays off as we get back on the highway, and it's almost fifteen minutes before I speak.

"Cade, can you pull over for a second," I ask, my voice very quiet. Barricade pulls onto the shoulder silently, stopping beneath a street light, and I get out. Moving over to the base of the light, I sit down and lean back against it, pulling my knees up to my chest before allowing my emotions to come flooding back.

That boy had tried to rape me! He would have succeeded if not for Barricade, too. There had been nothing I could do. He was gonna… I draw deep shuddering breaths, sobbing quietly as I bury my face in my knees and fold my arms over my head. I stay that way for a while, just working through the shock, crying softly. The sound of twisting metal draws my attention, and I look up.

Barricade stands proudly in front of me, armor gleaming under the yellow glare of the streetlight, before kneeling. Metal hands reach for me, and I instinctively try to scramble away. Cade stops. "Calm down, Teresa; I am not going to hurt you," he says, normally gruff voice soft and soothing. I hesitate, and nod slowly. He reaches for me again, scooping me up gently in huge hands and cradling me to his chest as Cade steps back out of the light. Drying my eyes, I lean into the smooth warmth of Barricade's chest, trying to stop the shudders that are still wracking my body. Cade simply stands there, holding me close. The humming of the machinery in his chest slowly calms me, until I lie limp in his hands, letting go of the emotions I had allowed brief control of me. Taking a deep breath, I lean back and look up into Cade's red optics.

"I'm better now," I say. Nodding, Barricade sets me down on the ground before stepping back onto the road and transforming back down into his car form. His engine rumbles quietly as I get back into his interior, warm despite the chill outside as the temperature drops, and buckle myself in securely. As Cade starts back down the highway, heading north, I say, "Thanks, Cade, for coming back."

"As I told that slagger back at the motel, nobody touches my squishy," he replies, and I smile.

"And who said that I was your squishy," I tease, poking the dashboard in front of me.

"Femme, you've been mine ever since I agreed to your slagging deal," Barricade answers, tightening the seatbelt around me briefly in a form of a hug.

"Technically, you're my car, since I bought you first," I muse, watching the streetlights pass by. I would look at the stars, but clouds cover the sky; not even the moon is shining through.

"Please; I could have ditched you any time, femme," Cade responds. Rolling my eyes, I say,

"Okay, okay, you win this round. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep. Just pull off somewhere if you get tired." I reach down to recline the seat, but Barricade beats me to it, lowering the seat until I'm practically lying flat on the seat.

"Good night, Cade," I murmur, sleep already claiming me, but not before I hear Barricade quietly reply, "Good night, Teresa."

XXXXXXXXXX

_No One's POV_

Outside the motel, nobody notices one more car join the throng of spectators as two ambulance workers wheel a teenage boy out of one of the rooms. The new arrival, a man in his early twenties with semi-long black hair and blue sunglasses, gets out of his car just in time to hear the boy scream.

"Don't let him get me! I swear, I'll confess, I won't do anything ever again, just don't let him get me," the teenager babble loudly before the doors of the ambulance slam shut, cutting off his cries.

"What happened," the man asks another bystander as the emergency vehicle drives away, sirens blaring.

"That boy tried to rape a girl," the woman replies, eyes wide. "Apparently he would have, too, if the girl's brother hadn't stopped him." The black-haired man whistles as the crowd starts to break up. After wandering around for a few minutes, he gets back in his car and drives away, only to stop as soon as he's out of town and go into the forest. Jazz lets his holoform dissipate as he transforms, pulling the locater out of subspace as he stands.

"Dang," he curses, optics widening behind his visor as he confirms his suspicions. The small camera confirms that the girl had spent almost the whole day in this town before returning to the hotel, staying for a short time, and then leaving suddenly about an hour ago. Jazz checks the latest info from the bug and sighs with relief. The miniature camera peeks through the open zipper of the girl's purse, showing her asleep in a car, presumably the Decepticon. There are bruises forming on her throat and face, but she appears otherwise unharmed. An alert from his comm. system distracts Jazz, and he puts the locater away before answering the call.

:: Hello Prowler, I was wondering when you'd call me up. :: Jazz says teasingly. There's a short pause before the other replies.

:: My designation is Prowl, Jazz, and don't play stupid with me. I know that tone. What are you up to? :: Prowl's cool voice comes over the channel, managing to sound suspicious and monotone at the same time.

:: Me? Up to something? Why Prowler, I'm hurt. You know I wouldn't do anything I couldn't get away with. :: Jazz replies with a smile audible in his voice.

:: That's what worries me. :: Prowl deadpans. :: Prime wishes to know when you will return to base. ::

:: I'll be back as soon as I'm finished. :: Jazz deflects the question skillfully. :: I'm following up on a lead about that missing femme; the one that Barricade kidnapped. ::

:: Any updates? :: Prowl asks, sounding eager for new information.

:: Nothing concrete. It's probably going to be a while, but I'm confident it'll pan out. :: Jazz replies, pulling his locater back out and switching to the map setting. He curses mentally as he sees the dot representing his quarry cross over the state line into Virginia.

:: I'll clear it with Prime. :: Prowl confirms, before pausing. Jazz looks away from the locater, focusing on his best friend. Prowl never pauses. When the police-bot speaks again, his voice is somewhat quieter.

:: While you're in the area, can you keep an eye out for the spark container? :: He asks, voice low. Jazz softens.

:: Don't worry, Prowler, we'll find the kid. He's got enough energy to last for a human year, not that he'll need it, and there's no way the 'Cons will find him. :: Jazz reassures his friend.

:: I know that. :: Prowl responds. :: Logically, we are bound to find him, and quickly. There is no reason to worry. ::

:: But you still do. :: Jazz finishes quietly. Prowl is silent.

:: I'll keep an eye out for him, Prowler. Just wait; we'll have the kid back and talking all of our audio receptors off before you know it. :: The saboteur says.

:: Thanks, Jazz. I'll get your absence cleared with Prime; be back as soon as you can. :: Prowl says, back to being professional before he ends the call. Jazz vents harshly, rubbing a servo over his helm, before looking back at his locater. Noting the position of the blinking dot, the Porsche transforms and is soon back on the road, chasing down a pair of the most unlikely quarries he's ever come across.

XXXXXXXXXX

**CWC: Okay, sorry for the rather dark chapter, but I have to get some things out here.**

** I'm going to be in Canada for the month of July, on family vacation the first week of August, and starting school on August the sixth. I will not have access to a computer. It is unlikely you will receive any chapters until mid-August, hence the two long chapters in one day. Sorry for the delay, but life is taking a front seat. **

**Many thanks to those who are reviewing and I look forward to seeing you again as soon as possible, despite writer's block, sporadic updates, and my many fickle muses. Yeah I'm talking about you, Ramen Knight. **

**I might be able to whip up another chapter before Friday, when we hit the road, but it is unlikely. So, for at least a month and a half, this is good bye. **

**See ya soon, readers! Good bye, and happy reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**CWC: Guess who's back! Wow, Canada is so much fun! Thanks a lot for waiting, and boy am I glad to have access to a computer again. **

**Prowl-muse: Trust me, she is. **

**CWC: I have so many ideas, I don't know where to start except right here where I left off! And with that, on with the chapter!**

**XXXXXXXX**

**Chapter 8: First Snow**

**XXXXXXXX**

_Teresa's POV_

"Wake up, femme. I need answers," Barricade's voice wakes me, back to its normal level of gruffness. Groaning, I sit up, nearly strangling myself on the seatbelt before the seat returns to its usual position.

"Unless you enjoy rolling on four flat tires, you better have a good reason for waking me up," I grumble, scrubbing the sleep out of my eyes and glaring blindly at where it sounds like his holoform is activated in the driver's seat.

"What the frag is this white stuff," Barricade demands, and I ask, "What white stuff," before I open my eyes and gape in shock.

Thick gray clouds cover the sky, dropping huge snowflakes that blow around for a short time before settling heavily on the ground. Already patches of white have begun to take over the earth, and even the roads are starting to get a pale coat. I smile widely at the beauty of it.

"That, my extraterrestrial friend, would be snow, a form of precipitation common in the northern regions of the world during the period when the Earth's axis is tilted away from the sun, called winter," I reply, pressing my nose to the window to get a closer look at the swirling flakes.

"Is it dangerous," Barricade asks, sounding strangely innocent. I shake my head, smearing a small nose print on the window. I pull away when the glass shakes.

"No, snow on its own isn't dangerous to people, but it might give you some trouble. Snow can make bridges icy, causing cars to slide and wreck, or, if a car sits in it for too long, the cold can freeze the water in the car's engine and radiator, sometimes cracking the engine block and doing other damage. The first shouldn't be a problem as long as you drive carefully, and I can put snow chains on your tires at our next stop, and the second can be avoided by adding some anti-freeze to the water in your radiator," I say from memory, still mesmerized by the snow.

"You sound as if you've dealt with this before," Cade remarks as he slows slightly. "I used to live in the north before," I start to say but cut myself off, pressing my lips together and going back to staring out the window.

"Before what," Barricade asks, holoform glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Before I moved, duh. Now, I noticed something about your choice in music. You only listen to rock," I respond, quickly changing the subject. Barricade doesn't seem to notice and takes the bait.

"And what's wrong with rock," he asks, sounding almost miffed. I smile at his tone.

"Nothing, just that it must get kind of old after a while," I reply. "Have you ever heard this singer called Rascal Flatts?"

I spend the next couple of hours educating Barricade about the different genres of music; turns out he doesn't care for a lot of pop music, and absolutely refuses to listen to rap after I explained some of the lyrics to him. Cade enjoys some country, though, and even a little classical music. We pull into a Sheetz for a late breakfast with the last strains of Life is a Highway echoing through the cab. After a quick brunch, we drive around the small town for a little bit trying to find the auto parts store. I finally spot it and pull in. Barricade's holoform follows me into the store and stops dead, going slightly pale. I look at him, confused.

"Barry? What's up," I ask, waving a hand in front of his sunglass-covered eyes. He shudders slightly, grabbing my wrist briefly before letting go.

"Let's just hurry and get out of here," he mutters, looking down at his boots, and I look around the store, trying to see what could have him so upset. It strikes me as I peer through a glass panel in one of the walls where customers can observe their car being worked on and catch sight of a gorgeous Corvette with its engine dangling above it, suspended by a crane. I swallow hard as I get it.

This place must look like some kind of gross chop shop to him; it'd be like me walking into an operating theater covered with dead body parts. Shuddering with revulsion, I quickly buy the chains, anti-freeze, and a jack and get out of the store. Pulling into a convenient patch of woods, I grab the stuff out of the trunk and plop it in the ground before approaching Barricade.

"You remember what I said earlier about snow chains, right," I ask, eyeing his grille uncomfortably.

"Yes," he responds evenly.

"Well I'm gonna have to jack you up a little bit to put them on," I explain, gesturing to the equipment. Cade goes quiet for a minute before releasing a mechanical sigh.

"Do what you must," he answers, sounding almost bored, and I nod before retrieving the jack and chains. Barricade doesn't move as I gently slide the jack under him and start lifting. As soon as I get his tires the needed distance off the ground, I approach the tires with a sense of apprehension. I put the chain on quickly, noticing how Cade seems to tighten up when I brush against the inside of his wheel wells, repeating the process with all four tires. I sigh with relief as I finish and throw the jack away, its purpose fulfilled. That done, I grab the bottle of anti-freeze and walk up to the hood of the Mustang.

"All right, then, open up," I say happily, rapping on Barricade's hood with my knuckles.

"No," Cade says, rolling back slightly. I frown.

"Cade, I gotta put this in your cooling system. If I don't, the water inside of you will freeze, and you'll have worse things to deal with than outrunning the Autobots. Besides, you didn't have a problem with me rummaging around under your hood before," I chide him gently.

"That was life or death," he answers, rolling back a little further.

"And this will be if I don't get this anti-freeze into you," I reply firmly, scowling at the Mustang. Grumbling, Barricade rolls back to his previous position before popping his hood slightly. I nod.

"Thank you," I say, hooking my fingers under then rim of his hood and lifting it up. I let out a whistle of appreciation as I look over the mas of gleaming metal that is Cade's engine. Locating the radiator cap, I undo it with a quick twist and pour the fluid in. I smile slightly at Barricade's shudder as the liquid makes its way through his systems.

"Blech," Barricade grumbles like some little kid made to take his medicine. I roll my eyes.

"Oh come on; it wasn't that bad." I step away and Cade slams his hood back shut as soon as I'm clear. Turning, he presents me with his open passenger side door.

"Time to leave," his holoform tells me from the driver's seat. I nod and get in, and we're soon on the road again. The snow keeps falling, and the further north we get the more of it there is. Going moderately fast and taking the back roads instead of the highway, we drive through some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen.

"Where are we," I ask, staring in wonder outside where small farmhouses sit quietly on snow-covered hills.

"Pennsylvania," Cade responds. He had been talking less and less, and this was the first time he had spoken since we crossed the Virginia-Pennsylvania border. Turning to him, I cock an eyebrow.

"What's up," I ask, examining his holoform for clues.

"The sky," he responds blankly, making me roll my eyes.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. I meant why aren't you talking? Normally by this time you're asking me some weird question about human culture or growling at me for punching you when I see a punch-bug," I say, looking more carefully. There's something… My eyes widen as I see the problem. Barricade's hand wraps around my wrist as I reach for his console and I shiver.

"What the s-slag are you doing," he growls, glaring at me through sunglass-covered eyes.

"Turning on the heat; I'm cold," I lie. Grumbling, Cade lets go and I withdraw my hand as warm air starts to fill the cab. I keep an eye on Barricade, and smirk slightly as his holoform stops shivering and relaxes against the seat. Finding the heat to be quite nice myself, I snuggle deeper into my fuzzy hoody with a small wriggle and go back to staring out the window as country music plays quietly on the radio.

The hours pass quickly, the snow keeps falling, and we keep driving. After a while I reach into my purse, not taking my eyes off the scenery, and take out my IPod.

"What is that," Cade asks, leaning over to examine the black device in my hand.

"It's called an IPod," I explain. "It can play games, music, videos, and hold pictures, depending on what you store on it." That said, I open up subway surfer and start to play. Barry watches me out of the corner of his eye as I dodge the trains and collect coins. I manage to kill almost an hour doing that before sighing with boredom and shoving the piece of tech into my pocket. I go back to gazing out the window and gasp.

"Pull over, pull over," I shout, bringing Barricade to a screeching halt on the side of the road.

"What the Pit, femme," he growls with surprise, his holoform glaring at me. Ignoring him, I get out of the car. I stand there, ankle deep in snow, and stare at the scene before me as Barricade transforms to stand beside me. The sun is setting over the snow-covered hills, painting the white snow with the pinks and oranges of early evening as it slowly drops behind the barely visible trees on the horizon.

"Primus," Barricade begins, but trails off into silence. I nod, understanding what he means. The colors change and shift, turning from orange to pink to purple, and finally to blackness as the sun vanishes and the stars begin to appear. I heave a huge sigh and watch my breath form a cloud before drifting away. I look up to Barricade, and am again awed by his sheer bulk.

"Ready to go," I ask. He looks down at me.

"Yeah," he replies, and transforms back into the Mustang. We're both surprised when I walk around and get into the driver's side. Starting him up, I drive away as Cade makes his holoform appear in the passenger seat.

"What are you doing," he asks, giving me a tired glare and taking off his sunglasses. I can see the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion in every line of his shockingly young face.

"I'm driving for a bit; go ahead and get some recharge," I order. Barry grumbles, though I have a feeling it's mostly for show, and disintegrates his holoform before I feel his presence fade. Smiling, I drive on through the snowy night on a journey to nowhere.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Barricade's POV_

I come online slowly and find myself unexpectedly warm. Turning on my sensors one by one, I find that it's approximately seven in the morning, the outside temperature is near fifteen degrees Fahrenheit, and Teresa is curled up, asleep, in my passenger seat. Smiling mentally, I scan the surroundings.

Teresa had stopped for the night at a rest area at the border of Pennsylvania and New York, on the edge of a parking lot. Emitting the Cybertronian version of a yawn, I shift my idling engine out of park and get onto the highway, glad for the hours of recharge. I was finally back to full power and ready to roll. I run a quick scan over the human in my interior and wince as I get up to speed.

Bruises have formed on her neck, arms, and legs, along with some of the old ones still present from the accident where I was exposed. Venting harshly, I speed up and pass a beat-up red van that looked like it could go to battle against a truck and win. Even in the early morning, the highway is far from deserted.

I feel the girl shiver against my seat, and turn up the heat before she can start waking up. A small smile passes over her face and she wriggles into my seat before falling more deeply asleep. I smile again. Suddenly a gaping squishy in the car next to me reminds me to activate my holoform, making it appear as if 'I' had only been sitting back before scowling at the man and speeding up. Red 'eyes' hidden by dark sunglasses, I weave quickly through the non-sentient machines on the highway.

I'm glad for the relative solitude afforded me by the girl's slumber and take advantage of it to work through some of the emotions clogging my processor. That boy. My engine revs angrily as I think about the one who had touched my squishy. It had taken all my strength not to kill the worm, and even so it was only because it would hurt the femme that I had restrained myself. The sight of the male with a knife to my human's throat would be stuck in my processor for cycles.

That brought me to the strange emotion clouding my judgment. Why had I not left the femme behind when I had the chance? It would be dishonorable, of course, but I had done worse; far worse. I grumble as I pass a slow moving SUV. I wasn't stupid enough to deny feeling protective of the squishy; my actions back at the motel proved that. It wasn't a romantic love, even if, Primus forbid, such a thing was possible. It was almost like…

I shut that thought down before my mind can process it. Revving my engine louder than before, I continue to move through the light traffic on our way north. I push my earlier thoughts away and focus on driving, feeling the new chains on my tires bite pleasantly through the thin layer of ice on the road to grip the pavement beneath. I vent again. I had kind of missed this; just driving and driving until I couldn't drive anymore.

My holoform looks over to the passenger seat as Teresa stirs. She sits up and yawns, stretching her joints. I wince as a loud series of pops echoes from her spinal struts.

"Must you do that," I ask, and smirk as she jumps at my voice. The femme glares at me before smirking back and putting her right fist in the palm of her left hand. I shudder slightly as she cracks her knuckles loudly.

"Slagger," I mutter, but she must hear the amusement in my voice, because she simply smiles. The smile turns into a small laugh as her fuel tank emits a rumbling sound.

"Guess it's about time for breakfast," she remarks, poking at the organ with one finger. Rolling my eyes behind my glasses, I quickly pull off the highway and into the parking lot of one of the human's fast fuel restaurants. As I straighten up in the spot, not bothering to deactivate my holoform, the femme hops out and goes inside. I watch absently through the windows lining the building as the squishy waits in line, gets her fuel, and moves to sit at one of the tables next to a window.

She waves at me and, with a mental eye-roll, I wave back. I'm surprised when she gives me a 'come on' gesture. Confused, I point to myself. She nods emphatically. Really rolling my eyes, I get out of my true body and enter the franchise. The few other customers, a group of giggling light-haired adolescent femmes accompanied by a couple adolescent males and a few adult humans, glance up at the gentle ring of the bell as I walk in. I ignore them and make my way over to my femme's table, stopping beside her.

"Yes," I ask, looking curiously down at her. In response she gestures to the seat in front of her.

"Sit with me," Teresa invites as she starts to unpack her fuel.

"Why," I inquire even as my holoform slides into the booth across from her.

"Can your holoform eat food," she asks, ignoring my question. I nod slowly, still confused.

"Yes; all holoforms are equipped to consume fuel and convert it to energon," I answer. Why did she buy two of everything?

"Have you ever tasted human food before," Teresa questions, looking at me curiously as she arranges the table.

"No. I prefer to get my energon from fossil fuels. Why do you ask," I end on a wary note, glaring suspiciously at the food on the table.

"Well, we're going to fix that," the femme says with a smile, gesturing to the food. Blinking with surprise, I look down. A regular patty of cow meat between two pieces of cooked grains along with cooked potato slices sits in front of her, and she pushes the organic fuel my way. One of my eyebrows arches above the rim of my sunglasses.

"You expect me to eat this slag," I ask incredulously. Teresa frowns as she unwraps her own food.

"Yup," she responds before taking a large bite. I roll my eyes before following her example and picking up the round meat-bread disk.

"What is this even called, anyway," I ask, looking it over.

"That would be a hamburger, the red stuff is ketchup, the yellow goo is mustard, and if you see any white stuff it's called mayonnaise. Oh, and the potato sticks are called French fries; they're good with ketchup," Teresa explains. I watch carefully as she takes another bite and awkwardly copy her, wrapping my holoform's jaws around the food and biting down. Flavor fills my mouth and I jerk slightly with surprise, thinking of the relative blandness of energon compared with the strange taste of Earth food. Swallowing, I look up at Teresa's giggle and scowl at the smiling girl. She only smiles more widely.

"Good, huh," she comments before she returns to her burger. Grumbling noncommittally, I take another bite, savoring each flavor and trying to identify it. The meat has a certain greasy taste, almost like oil, which is increased by the mayonnaise. Bread has a strange flavor, being both chewy and tough, but also fluffy. The bitterness of the mustard is cut slightly by the sweetness of the ketchup. Putting down the burger, I turn my attention curiously to the fries. I try one plain first, and find I like the squishy food. Then I try it with ketchup and am glad I'm wearing sunglasses to hide my probably wide-eyed expression.

Dang; humans know how to make fuel. I've just discovered that Teresa has gotten me a soda, too, when I'm interrupted by a high pitched giggle. Teresa glares and I look to see that two of the blonde femmes from before are making their way over to our table. I swallow hard as I recognize the hungry look in their organic optics.

"Slag," I mutter, turning to look out the window and hoping that they'll go away. Teresa looks at me curiously as the two adolescents reach us.

"Hey, we thought you might be out of ketchup," the first blonde one, who has brown optics starts, only for the second blonde, whose optics are green, to finish, "So we decided to, like, bring you some." She offers me the ruby bottle and I take it with a sigh.

"Thank you. Now leave," I say, putting the ketchup on the table. The femmes share a look before the green-eyed one says, "No, I don't think we will." "What's your name, anyway? Are you new around here," brown-eyes asks as she perches on the edge of the table, practically shoving her aft in Teresa's face as she leans forward.

"We could show you around," offers green eyes, trying to slide into the booth next to me. "And maybe show you our place afterwards," the brown-eyed femme finishes.

"That's it," I say coldly. Reaching up, I shove the two girls off of the table and bench to land in a pile on the floor. I stand up and cross my arms, glaring down at them. "I am trying to have lunch with my sister. Please leave and do not return," I say, my tone telling them that I'm dead serious.

The two femmes, twins, I realize, scowl at me before hissing, "You're going to regret that," in unison and stalking back to the group of teenagers. Rolling my eyes behind my shades, I sit back down and continue eating my fries, ignoring Teresa's look of shock. Finally Teresa giggles and returns to her own food, only to glance back towards the group.

"Uglies at nine o'clock," she says suddenly, putting her food down. Understanding, I put down my own food before turning to look at the males who are approaching with scowls on their faces. They appear to be twins as well, with wide shoulders and brown hair; one with blue eyes, one with brown. I stand up to meet them, surprised when Teresa stands beside me. Before I can tell her to get back, they're on us.

"Are you the punk that made a move on my sisters," the blue eyed one asks indignantly. "And my girlfriend," adds the brown-eyed jock. I'm about to respond when Teresa covers it for me.

"As if," she snorts. "Those two were making a move on my brother and were insulted when he had enough taste to refuse." The two tense, noticing my companion, and the blue eyed one begins to leer.

"This guy's your brother, sweet cheeks? Does that mean you're available," he asks with an arrogant smirk. Scowling, I step in front of them and take off my sunglasses. The two, who I'm glad to notice are slightly shorter than I am, back off at the sight of my glowing red eyes.

"Nobody makes a move on my…sister," I growl, barely hesitating at using the term. The blue-eyed one regains some of his courage and steps forward, uncrossing his arms.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it," he asks as his friend steps up beside him, mirroring his stance. A smirk grows on my face, causing them to step back.

"I'm not going to do anything," I answer, and look over my shoulder at the red-faced girl. "Oh Teresa," I say as innocently as I can. The girl looks up at me with enough anger in her eyes to make Megatron flinch. "Is there something you'd like to discuss with these gentlemen," I ask before stepping aside. Teresa, now frighteningly calm, steps forward towards the boys and crosses her arms.

"Did you have an offer for me," she asks innocently.

"Yeah sweet thing; you wanna come over to my place tonight," the blue-eyed boy offers with a leer. Teresa smiles sweetly for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"No, I don't think I would like that. Would you like to know why," she offers still in that innocent voice. She doesn't give them a chance to respond before launching into a tirade. "BECAUSE YOU'RE AN ARROGANT JERK WITH SLAG FOR BRAINS AND AN AFT FOR A HEAD! You're as arrogant a fragger as I've ever met and probably the only thing going on in that empty head of yours is how to find your next girlfriend. Now back off before I sick my brother on you and let him slag you twenty ways to the Pit and back again," she shouts before smiling sweetly again at the shocked male and, grabbing the food in one hand and my arm in the other, drags me out of the restaurant and back to the car.

I offer them a smirk and wave just before we leave and am rewarded by an enraged snarl from both boys. Shoving me towards the driver's seat, Teresa gets in the passenger side and buckles up, glaring angrily at the boys who are still standing, shocked an angry, inside the fast foot place. Chuckling, I put my sunglasses back on and get in, quickly driving off. Teresa fumes silently for almost a minute before exploding again.

"ARGH! People like that just make me sick! They think their God's gift to women…" I smirk as the femme continues to rant about the male gender in general and subtly turn on my radio to drown out her shouting. The country music fills my processor pleasantly as I dodge around an old gun-metal grey Datsun and speed up. The sun moves slowly across the sky as we drive on.

I'm so focused on the music and the road that I jerk when Teresa thumps me on the dashboard. My holoform jumps slightly and the real me swerves on the road.

"What the slag, femme," I respond, glaring at her. She shrugs.

"You weren't answering me," the squishy explains with a shrug. I roll my eyes.

"What did you need," I ask, turning back to the road.

"Do you wanna play a game," she asks, ignoring my holoform and addressing my radio. I use it to respond anyway.

"What kind of game," I ask suspiciously.

"I'll hum a bit of a song, and you'll use your super-fast-connect-to-the-internet-anywhere skills to find the song," she answers, smiling happily at coming up with an idea. The smile is quickly replaced by a frown when I answer.

"No."

"But why not? It won't even be tough, and it'll help to pass the time. Come on, what do you have to lose," she wheedles.

I'm silent for a minute, trying to find a good reason not to play her game, but can't find one. She grins as I sigh and agree. Instantly she hums out a string of notes. Recording them, I run a quick internet search and play the top result.

Teresa grins as "Born to Be Wild" comes through my inner audio systems.

She hums a few more notes, and "Life is a Highway" starts to play.

Another couple of sounds, and "Let There Be Rock" echoes through my cab. My holoform smirks at her.

"Please, give me a challenge," I say, causing Teresa to grin. She suddenly belts out some lyrics, and I scoff slightly as I play the song in response.

"Really, femme; Big Time Rush? That's just cruel," I tease gently as "Windows Down" plays loudly. Ignoring me, Teresa simply continues singing along. Chuckling slightly, I roll my eyes and wait for the next song.

Teresa surprises me with the range of earth music she knows, belting out either the tune or lyrics of every type of song from techno and 80s to classical and pop. Every once in a while she'll throw in a rap song just to throw me off, and laughs when I curse at her in Cybertronian. The game continues, pauses when the femme requests fuel and introduces me to pizza, and starts again as we keep driving. By the time Teresa yawns and declares that she is going into recharge, I know more song lyrics and tunes than I've learned in the past ten lunar cycles. I'm about to ignore the girl and turn my sensors outward when I pick up a last snippet of notes from the girl.

As I tint my windows darker and deactivate my holoform, I sense the girl's smile when I respond by quietly playing the song. We drive on with Owl City's Fireflies playing softly as my squishy falls asleep, leaving me to the quiet and solitude of the night.

XXXXXXXXXX

**CWC: Coming up next, the story-line picks up a bit and the real challenges begin. Ttyl, babes! All who review will receive a human-sized Prowl!**

**Prowl-muse: What?!**

**CWC: Bye kiddies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**CWC: Hello! Despite school, college classes, my first test, and a heavy case of writer's block, I am back! Sorry it took so long!**

**Prowl-Muse: You will be lucky if you have any readers left. **

**CWC: Hush, you. My readers are awesome! On with the story!**

**XXXXXXX**

**Chapter 9: Crossing Borders**

**XXXXXXX**

XXXXXXXXXX

_Teresa's POV_

"Yo, femme," Barricade's voice pulls me out of the light daze caused by extreme boredom.

"What's up big bot," I ask, glancing down at the radio even though his holoform is activated.

"There's a big place up ahead, looks like a toll booth, with these weird flags. Should we be worried?"

"What?!" I sit up with a jolt to stare forward. Cars are lined up for a short distance outside of a large building with lots of toll booths where uniformed guards are checking papers, the noon sun glinting off shiny paint jobs and snow drifts alike.

"Pull off, pull off," I shout, eyes widening. A confused Cade speedily complies, pulling off the highway and onto an off-ramp that loops us around until we're heading in the opposite direction. Leaning back over the seat, I breathe a sigh of relief as the station disappears behind us. Barricade shoots me a confused glare.

"What the pit was that about," he asks even as he accelerates back to the speed limit and blows past a huge white and blue cab-over-engine Freightliner car carrier.

"That," I say, going back to sitting up straight in the passenger seat. "That was the American-Canadian border. Congratulations, Barricade, you've managed to drive over practically the entire Eastern Seaboard in about a week, even with sticking to the back roads for most of the trip."

"Why did we have to turn around," Cade questions.

"Because I don't have my passport and blasting through the border is always a great way to get the police on your tail," I respond, looking down at my feet and grimacing. The floor is invisible under a layer of candy wrappers and my purse and book bag.

Bending over, I start gathering up the wrappers as Barricade states, "So we cannot go any further north without a passport, we cannot go east because of the Atlantic ocean, and we cannot go west because of the Autobots."

"So we have to go back south," I finish obviously as I wad up the papers and stuff them in a plastic bag for disposal. "Will the Autobots expect us to double back," I ask as I go back to arranging the bags so that I have some leg room.

"Probably not, but we will have to take a different route to avoid detection," Cade replies. "No, we cannot stop at your house," he says quickly. I shoot my friend? Big brother? Ride? I shoot my partner a bemused smirk.

"I wasn't going to ask," I say, holding my hands up in an 'I surrender' gesture. "Besides, what would I go back for?"

A grunt is the only answer I get out of Barricade before we go back to the dull silence that had preceded our arrival at the border. After almost thirty seconds of mind-numbing silence, I let out an explosive sigh and, after a minute or so of rummaging around in my backpack while getting odd looks from Cade, emerge with several maps.

Unfolding one, I look over the squiggly pen line that marks our route from Miniville, Tennessee to our last stop on the outskirts of New York City. I retrieve a pen from my pocket and turn to Cade, whose holoform is leaning over to see what I'm doing.

"Where do you feel like going now," I ask, gesturing to the map. Barricade shrugs as he straightens back up to stare at the road.

"It doesn't matter to me, as long as we stay away from Nevada," he replies as he swerves around a silver sedan. I look down at the map and shrug before folding it up and putting it away.

"Here's the plan: whenever we come to a crossroads, I'll pick a random direction and we'll see where we end up. Good," I say, glancing at the pretend Mustang for confirmation.

Barricade answers with, "Sounds good to me," before all is quiet again. There is another short silence, this time broken by the radio flicking on.

I stare at the dial with quiet amusement as it turns on its own for a few seconds before finally settling on a country station. I smirk at the song playing and am soon singing along to "Sweet Home Alabama" as the highway speeds by, the snow glinting in the sun. Barricade merely rolls his eyes under his sunglasses and gives me an amused smirk.

A comfortable couple of hours pass as I torture Cade with my horrible singing before we stop for supper at a convenient Subway, where my partner discovers that water isn't very good at cutting the heat from jalapeño peppers.

"Very funny," he grumbles around the straw in his mouth as he sucks down Coke at an astonishing rate. I can't help but smirk and continue eating my sandwich, popping a jalapeno in my mouth every so often just to tease him. After supper we're back on the road and I start up another game of 'guess the tune.' As the time nears eight o'clock and sky darkens, I turn to Cade, who has deactivated his holoform.

"How often do Cybertronians need to sleep," I ask curiously, eyeing a sign and pulling out the map.

"Depends on how much energon we've had and what we've been doing. Why," Barricade asks, confusion evident in his voice.

"Humans can't go for very long without sleeping, but sometimes they choose to stay up all night to study or just for fun. Thought I'd give you a warning, that's what I'm doing," I answer, marking the town we just passed on the map.

"So I will be forced to deal with you for twelve more hours," Cade asks blankly.

"Yup," I reply cheerily, re-folding the map and stuffing it in my bag.

"Oh joy," he deadpans.

I lean my head against the cool glass of Barricade's window and smirk as I prop my feet on the dashboard.

"You know you love me," I say, tilting my head back to try and see the stars.

"Like a hole in the helm," Cade counters, flicking his headlights onto low beam and back to high as we pass the first car we've seen for fifteen minutes. We're still driving on the back roads, and making great time due to Barry's snow tires and driving skills on the wintry roads. It's almost midnight when, looking at the scenery, I notice a spot where somebody went off the road. I glance down the narrow alley out of curiosity and gasp.

"Barricade, pull over, pull over," I shout, eyes wide. Cade, seeing what I have, backs up slightly to the alley formed by the trees and stops, allowing me to get out. I pull my hoody closer to my body as I shiver in the cold and march through the tunnel of damaged trees. Cursing my lack of a thicker coat, I pace slowly forward with Barricade driving slowly behind me, holoform activated just in case. Broken limbs litter the snowy ground, revealed by Barricade's strong headlights, and we have to go quite a way into the trees before we find what caused such damage.

"Slag," I mutter as the light reflects brightly off the battered trunk of a car, embedded up to the rear axles in a snow bank with the back tires, which are off the ground, barely visible. Even what little of the car I can see is dented and worn, no doubt from battling with the trees before ramming itself into the snow. Judging by the amount of snow that has fallen on the car, obscuring the license plate, it's been here for at least a day.

Where is the driver?

As the thought crosses my mind, my eyes widen and I rush forward, frantically digging through the snow to reveal the back window of the sleek car. Wiping as much frost from it as I can, I peer into the interior of the vehicle. Nothing moves inside, though I can't see much with the darkness and the snow. I'm about to move away when I feel a hand land on my shoulder. Stifling a shriek, I spin around and glare at Barricade's holoform.

"Your core temperature is dropping," he reports blankly, eyes still hidden behind sunglasses despite the fact that it's nighttime. "You should get back inside."

"Wait…" A weak voice come from the other side of the car, and, ignoring Barricade's suddenly confused expression, I race around the car. I'm yanked to a halt, however, when my jacket catches on the edge of the license plate. Stopping, I release my jacket, unintentionally wiping the snow from the plate in the process, and freeze, gaping.

"DA-JAZ-MN," the plate reads proudly, and a feeling of dread finds its way into the pit of my stomach as I lean around the end of the car and catch sight of the horribly familiar figure lying prone in the snow on the other side of the car, or should I say his real body.

He's as skinny as a twig, thin enough for me to count the ribs under his white jacket and red T-shirt, his clothes are ripped and dirty, his visor has a crack running through one side of the lens, and his black hair is tangled, matted, and rumpled, but he still manages to give me a small smile.

"What's crackin little glitches," Jazz says with a woozy grin before his head hits the ground with a slight thump.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Crap," I shout, rushing forward and bending down to examine the body. The sound of shifting metal informs me that Barricade has transformed, but I'm totally unprepared for him to scoop me up in one huge hand and dart backwards away from the Autobot, one hand transformed into a wickedly spinning mace.

"What the heck are you doing?" My voice is slightly shaky, and Barricade doesn't move from his defensive stance, tension practically thrumming through his frame. Reaching up, I pound against his fingers and he loosens them slightly, bright red optics glancing down at me before returning to the unconscious mech.

"Let me down," I order, and he jerks in surprise.

"Not on your life, squishy," Barricade growls, still in full-out battle mode. I sigh, and try a different approach.

"Barricade, is the Autobot attacking us," I ask pointedly, and his optics flicker to me for a few seconds longer.

"No," he answers. His weapon slows in its spinning and finally stops, but his hand does not reappear.

"Is he in any condition to attack us," I ask, and Barricade pauses. His eyes shine a strange shade of purple for a brief second before he grunts and shifts into a more relaxed stance, still holding me in his right hand.

"No," he finally responds. "He's nearly offline."

The blood drains from my face. "Barricade, put me down. I need to check on him," I say, a pleading note in my voice. The former Decepticon shakes his head.

"There's nothing you can do for him, femme," he states, a nearly unnoticeable trace of regret in his tone.

"How do you know," I object, beginning to struggle in his fingers. Barricade instantly looks down at me, concentrating on keeping me in his hand.

"Stop that," he grumbles as I wiggle out of his grasp and, quickly swapping spinning blades of doom for his slightly less dangerous left hand, moves to catch me. "Not until you tell me why I shouldn't crawl down there and start helping him the same way I helped you," I order, still scrambling between his digits. Barry releases a cavernous sigh.

"Fine, just stop squirming like a sparkling and look." His optics flare a brilliant blue before the light coming from them intensifies and focuses, projecting a picture directly onto the frame of the fallen Autobot.

It shows the basic frame of the car, laced with tubes and wires I'm completely unfamiliar with. Almost all of them are cracked, bright blue fluid leaking out. The most stunning thing is a spherical chamber located almost in the center of the hood, right underneath where the engine would be. A large crack winds down the side, and a blinding light shines out.

"What is that light?" I blink at the glare, and it disappears as the projection vanishes. Barricade huffs a sigh.

"Okay, squishy, mech biology basics. That light was the Autobot's spark. Every mech and femme has one. It's kind of like a heart, for a human, but it's also the soul of the Cybertronian; if the body was destroyed but the spark was safe, the bot could live on. That's why we're so hard to kill; we can always bounce back. What you just saw, however, was a crack in the spark casing, what protects it from the outside world.

With that cracked, the mech's in some serious trouble, not even counting all the busted energon lines he's got. Even if I wanted to, I don't have the right tools to fix him up, and neither do you." His voice has gone from harsh and angry to almost sympathetic as Barricade gently lowers me to the ground. I bite my lip and make no move towards the mech lying half-buried in snow.

"So there's nothing we can do for him," I ask quietly, hating the desperate quiver as my brain scrambles for some way to help the bot.

"Nope," Cade says bluntly, but doesn't make any other remarks. I stand silently for a minute, grieving for the death of someone I don't even know, when my not quite grief frozen brain latches on to one small part of the explanation.

"Wait, you said that you don't have the right tools to fix him, correct? Well who does?" Barricade's expression shifts into a glare.

"The Autobots could repair him, but his communication systems are shot. There's no way for him to call for help," he admits almost reluctantly, and I whirl on him, eyes wide.

"Well then call them and get them to come fix their friend," I almost shout. "It's not that simple," Cade states, a hint of irritation in his answer.

"How do you expect me to contact them? I don't have any of their comm. signals, and would they even believe me? Besides, by the time I find their system, hack it to put a message in without them noticing, and get out of here, the Auto-fool could already be dead!" I hesitate, listening to him, and almost immediately come up with a solution.

"You don't have to find their network, or even hack it," I reply, a smile forming on my face as the idea gains momentum. "Just open up an internet picture and I'll tell you what to do next. Quick! Transform!"

Confused, Barricade changes anyway, and I leap into the driver's seat. "Can you project some kind of screen," I ask, and the radio flips back to reveal a screen in the middle of the dashboard. It's already open to Google, and I grin.

"What are you doing," Barricade asks, no doubt keeping a metal 'eye' on what I'm typing as I pull up my email and start to type.

"The government keeps tabs on almost everything that goes on the internet, especially when it has to do with something they want to keep secret. They do that by setting filters up to looks for certain words in the right order. 'Nuclear' and 'weapon' don't ring any alarms, but put them together and suddenly you have the entire police force tail on your," I explain, biting my tongue as it starts to slip in my excitement.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Barricade is still confused, and the loaded email is taking shape.

"If I send an email with enough trigger words in it, the government will find it almost immediately. The more trigger words, the higher priority it will be given, so if I use enough they should send it to your buddies the Autobots. Then I'll tell them Jazz where is hurt and help send they will." My excitement peaks and I grin as I finish the short note, ignoring my final mistakes and clicking with a flourish.

"What do you think," I ask eagerly, and I see the mouse of the touchscreen moving as Barricade scans the document.

Megatron, Decepticons, Offline, Autobots, Starscream, Energon, Leader, Sparklings, Barricade, Femme, Neutral, Slag, Starscream, Slagger, Glitch-head, Cybertron, Barricade, Jazz, Neutral, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Autobot, Megatron, Megatron, Optimus Prime, Decepticon, All Spark, Spark, Spark Chamber, Processor, Offline, Stasis, Recharge, Barricade, Neutral, Mission City

HELLO! Attention all Autobots! The Autobot known as Jazz has been found in critical condition in Pennsylvania! The location is near Glendale Lake, in a state park. His spark chamber is cracked and he's leaking energon. Send medical help immediately! Even if you ignore every other word, please come help!

Megatron, Decepticons, Offline, Autobots, Starscream, Energon, Leader, Sparklings, Barricade, Femme, Neutral, Slag, Starscream, Slagger, Glitch-head, Cybertron, Barricade, Jazz, Neutral, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Autobot, Megatron, Megatron, Optimus Prime, Decepticon, All Spark, Spark, Spark Chamber, Processor, Offline, Stasis, Recharge, Barricade, Neutral

I can almost feel Barricade smirk. "Good plan, femme. The Auto-fool doesn't go the Well and we get away without a scratch. You'd have made a good Decepticon," he states, pleased. I roll my eyes.

"No, I would make a horrible Decepticon, and that I'll take as a complement. Now do you know any other words I could add to make it seem more believable?" Barricade is silent for a moment.

"No, I think it's good. Send it off." I smirk and click send as Cade's engine starts up. The flashing 'Message Sent' icon vanishes as the radio reappears, and I glance back at the Autobot as Barricade makes his way carefully back to the road.

"Are you sure we've done all we can," I ask one more time as Barry's tires make contact with pavement once more and we start off on our journey.

"Trust me, femme, he'll get all the help he needs as soon as the Autobots get there. We've done everything we can, and it's more than most would have done anyway," he replies, and I smirk at him as I take the steering wheel.

"Take a recharge nap," I order playfully as Cade puts out a questioning vibe. "You would make a horrible Decepticon, too, you know," I say quietly, and feel the seat tremble underneath me.

"I was a great Decepticon," Barricade answers tonelessly. "That's the problem."

XXXXXXXXX

Somewhere in the Nevada Desert, a bank of computers begins to light up. The first word sets off hundreds of alarms, forcing the system to take a closer look. By the time the automated filter reads through the email, the warning system is nearly exploding, sending the heavily worded email directly to the one person it had been authorized to.

A small light blinks on in a chamber in the Autobot Headquarters, and the Second in Command comes fully out of recharge at the pinging of an email in his mailbox. Blue optics widen very slightly, and then narrow as he opens the message reads its contents.

:: Prowl to Prime, come in Prime. ::

:: …. Prowl, could this not have waited until morning? ::

:: receiving email attachment… ::

:: …. Prime to Ratchet. Sending attachment. ::

:: *&^$^%#&$#(&^%*^&%*! PRIME! I need to be there YESTERDAY! ::

:: Leave as soon as you are able. Prowl, are you sure this email is correct? ::

:: Sir, can we take the chance that it is not? There are only five humans outside of the soldiers and government officials who know of our existence. Four of them are still in this state. The only one we do not have contact with was last sighted in Tennessee in the company of a Decepticon. The likelihood of this being a hoax is less than five percent. ::

:: Very well. The question remains, why has the fifth human waited for so long to contact us? We assumed she perished at the hands of Barricade days ago. ::

:: I do not have the answer, Prime. ::

:: Affirmative. We shall have to deal with this in the morning. Has Ratchet left yet? ::

:: He just came through the barracks shouting for Jolt and 'one of those slagging twins.' ::

:: Good. We will discuss more once the sun has risen and Ratchet has reported back. Prime out. ::

XXXXXXXXXXX

**CWC: Okay, small problem. I originally intended for this story to go in a completely different direction, so I have almost nothing pre-written. That means, unfortunately, updates will be sporadic at best and horribly short at worst. I will try to update more often, though, and will not abandon this story!**

**Prowl-Muse: I will not allow it. **

**CWC: *rolls eyes* Yeah, right. The mini-cop-bot won't let me stop typing. Scary.**

**Prowl-Muse: *pulls out pack of Oreos***

**CWC: Ooooohhhh! Gimme gimme gimme!**

**Prowl-Muse: Not until you have at least six pages written. **

**CWC: Okay! *Starts typing rapidly***

**Prowl-Muse: *Sighs* She'll be absolutely useless now. Good bye, readers. Those who review will receive a virtual Oreo.**

**CWC: I don't own anything you recognize! Except Teresa, she is mine. **

**REVIEW!**


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